The perfect type of the man of action is the suicide.

History, history! We fools, what do we know or care.

beauty’ is related not to ‘loveliness’ but to a state in which reality plays a part.

The pure products of America go crazy--mountain folk from Kentucky or the ribbed north end of Jersey with its isolate lakes and valleys, its deaf-mutes, thieves.

I think these days when there is so little to believe in——when the old loyalties——God, country, and the hope of Heaven——aren't very real, we are more dependent than we should be on our friends. The only thing left to believe in——someone who seems beautiful.

I pick the hair from her eyes and watch her misery with compassion.

Hell take curtains! Go with some show of inconvenience; sit openly - to the weather as to grief. Or do you think you can shut your grief in?