Mr. Fitzgerald-I believe that is how he spells his name-seems to believe that plagiarism begins at home.

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

There seemed to be some heavenly support beneath his shoulder blades that lifted his feet from the ground in ecstatic suspension, as if he secretly enjoyed the ability to fly but was walking as a compromise to convention.

Don't you think I was made for you? I feel like you had me ordered - and I was delivered to you - to be worn. I want you to wear me, like a watch-charm or a buttonhole bouquet.

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

Most people hew the battlements of life from compromise, erecting their impregnable keeps from judicious submissions, fabricating their philosophical drawbridges from emotional retractions and scalding marauders in the boiling oil of sour grapes.

isn't it funny how danger makes people passionate?