Millie Beggs, by the time she was forty-five, had become an emotional anarchist.

She refused to be bored chiefly because she wasn't boring.

The night you gave me my birthday party... you were a young Lieutenant and I was a fragrant phantom, wasn't I? And it was a radiant night, a night of soft conspiracy and the trees agreed that it was all going to be for the best.

Love is bitter and all there is, and that the rest is for the emotional beggars of the earth.

It is the loose ends with which men hang themselves.

Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold.

Why is there happiness and comfort and excitement where you are and no where else in the world.