Was it the infinite sadness of her eyes that drew him or the mirror of himself that he found in the gorgeous clarity of her mind?

My hair– bob it!

She walked rather quickly; she liked to be active, though at times she gave an impression of repose that was at once static and evocative. This was because she knew few words and believed in...

Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, a charlatan in place of the warm balmy nights I dream of in April. It’s a sad season of life without growth…It has no day.

He thinks himself rather an exceptional young man, thoroughly sophisticated, well adjusted to his environment, and somewhat more significant than any one else he knows.

As soon as I arrived I made an attempt to find my host but the two or three people of whom I asked his whereabouts stared at me in such an amazed way and denied...

Amory: I love you.Rosalind: I love you- now.

because they always needed lawyers after a revolution to straighten out all the legal side.

She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved....

Work like hell! I had 122 rejection slips before I sold a story.

I am glad you are happy–but I never believe much in happiness. I never believe in misery either. Those are things you see on the stage or the screen or the printed page, they never...

Tired, tired with nothing, tired with everything, tired with the world’s weight he had never chosen to bear.

Experience is not worth the getting. It’s not a thing that happens pleasantly to a passive you–it’s a wall that an active you runs up against.

Never miss a party…good for the nerves–like celery.

Angry, and half in love with her, and tremendously sorry, I turned away.

one emotion after another crept into her face like objects into a slowly developing picture.

He snatched the book from me and replaced it hastily on its shelf, muttering that if one brick was removed the whole library was liable to collapse.

So he tasted the deep pain that is reserved only for the strong, just as he had tasted for a little while the deep happiness.

Art isn’t meaningless… It is in itself. It isn’t in that it tries to make life less so.

Amerikalıların ara sıra toprak kölesi olmayı istedikleri olur, ama köylü sınıfından olmaya karşı hep direnmişlerdir.

Amory thought how it was only the past that seemed strange and unbelievable.

He was changed as completely as Amory Blaine could ever be changed. Amory plus Beatrice plus two years in Minneapolis – these had been his ingredients when he entered St. Regis’. But the Minneapolis years...

I had a strong sudden instinct that I must be alone. I didn’t want to see any people at all. I had seen so many people all my life — I was an average mixer,...

Most people think everybody feels about them much more violently than they actually do; they think other people’s opinions of them swing through great arcs of approval or disapproval.

There is something awe-inspiring in one who has lost all inhibitions, who will do anything. Of course we make him pay afterward for his moment of superiority, his moment of impressiveness.

I had traded the fight against love for the fight against loneliness, the fight against life for the fight against death.

Then she added in a sort of childish delight: ‘We’ll be poor, won’t we? Like people in books. And I’ll be an orphan and utterly free. Free and poor! What fun!’ She stopped and raised...

Men don’t often know those times when a girl could be had for nothing.

They were stars on this stage, each playing to an audience of two.

no girl can permanently bolster up a lame-duck visitor, because these day it’s every girl for herself.

I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart.

Take off that darn fur coat!…Or maybe you’d like to have us open all the windows.

Writers aren’t exactly people, they’re a bunch of people trying to be one person.

Ah,” she cried, “you look so cool.” Their eyes met, and they stared together at each other, alone in space. With an effort she glanced down at the table.You always look so cool,” she repeated.She...

Amory took to writing poetry on spring afternoons, in the gardens of the big estates near Princeton, while swans made effective atmosphere in the artificial pools, and slow clouds sailed harmoniously above the willow. May...

Begin with an individual, and before you know it you find that you have created a type: begin with a type, and you find that you have created – nothing. That is because we are...

their eyes are full of kindness as each feels the full effect of novelty after a short separation. They are drawing a relaxation from each other’s presence, a new serenity.

Character is plot, plot is character.

The notion of sitting down and conjuring up, not only words in which to clothe thoughts but thoughts worthy of being clothed–the whole thing was absurdly beyond his desires.

And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the...

Personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures.

No,” interrupted Marcia emphatically. “And you’re a sweet boy. Come here and kiss me.”Horace stopped quickly in front of her.”Why do you want me to kiss you?” he asked intently. “Do you just go round...

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

He had waited five years and bought a mansion where he dispensed starlight to casual moths – so that he could ‘come over’ some afternoon to a stranger’s garden.

Çok içen insanların yanında ayık kalmak her zaman faydalıdır. Her şeyden önce dilinizi bağlar, fazla gevezelik etmezsiniz. Daha da güzeli insanın kendi kusur ve yanlışlarını örtebilmesidir, nasılsa kimsenin sizi kimsenin sizi görecek hali olmaz. Zira...

He looked around him wildly, as if the past were lurking here in the shadow of his house, just out of reach of his hand.

This western-front business couldn’t be done again, not for a long time. The young men think they could do it but they couldn’t. They could fight the first Marne again but not this. This took...

One o’ clock. With her fork she would tantalize the heart of an adoring artichoke, while her escort served himself up in the thick, dripping sentences of an enraptured man. Four o’clock: her little feet...

Intermittently she caught the gist of his sentences and supplied the rest from her subconscious, as one picks up the striking of a clock in the middle with only the rhythm of the first uncounted...

There was a kindliness about intoxication – there was that indescribable gloss and glamour it gave, like the memories of ephemeral and faded evenings.