Maybe other people's ideas of us are truer than our own.

Youth doesn't need friends -- it only needs crowds.

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.

We walked at night towards a cafe blooming with Japanese lanterns and I followed your white shoes gleaming like radium in the damp darkness. Rising off the water, lights flickered an invitation far enough away to be interpreted as we liked; to shimmer glamourously behind the silhouette of retrospective good times when we still believed in summer hotels and the philosophies of popular songs.

Women, despite the fact that nine out of ten of them go through life with a death-bed air either of snatching-the-last-moment or with martyr-resignation, do not die tomorrow--or the next day. They have to live on to any one of many bitter ends.

People are like almanacs, Bonnie - you never can find the information you're looking for, but the casual reading is well worth the trouble.

It's terrible to allow conventional habits to gain a hold on a whole household; to eat, sleep and live by clock ticks.