I love her, and that’s the beginning and end of everything.

My whole theory of writing I can sum up in one sentence. An author ought to write for the youth of his own generation, the critics of the next, and the schoolmasters of ever afterward.

A man who was aware that there could be no honor and yet had honor, who knew the sophistry of courage and yet was brave.

a promise that the rock of the world was founded securely on a fairy’s wing

I avoided writers very carefully because they can perpetuate trouble as no one else can.

Yet Anthony knew that there were days when they hurt each other purposely—taking almost a delight in the thrust. Incessantly she puzzled him: one hour so intimate and charming, striving desperately toward an unguessed, transcendent...

My mind, brightened by the lights and the cheerful tumult, suddenly grasped the fact that all achievement was a placing of emphasis– a moulding of the confusion of life into form.

I couldn’t forgive him or like him, but I saw that what he had done was, to him, entirely justified.

Here, Earth-born, over the lilt of the water,Lisping its music and bearing a burden of light,Bosoming day as a laughing and radiant daughter…Here we may whisper unheard, unafraid of the night.Walking alone…was it splendor, or...

If you spend your life sparing people’s feelings and feeding their vanity, you get so you can’t distinguish what should be respected in them.

People try so hard to believe in leaders now, pitifully hard. But we no sooner get a popular reformer or politician or soldier or writer or philosopher—a Roosevelt, a Tolstoi, a Wood, a Shaw, a...

Her insan kendinde en az bir büyük erdem olduğuna inanır. Benimki, tanıdıklarım arasında en dürüst kişi olmamdır.

A phrase began to beat in my ears with a sort of heady excitement: “There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired.

Her fine high forehead sloped gently up to where her hair, bordering it like an armorial shield, burst into lovelocks and waves and curlicues of ash blonde and gold. Her eyes were bright, big, clear,...

Then he kissed her. At his lips’ touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete.

Probably more than any concrete vice or failing Amory despised his own personality – he loathed knowing that to-morrow and the thousand days after he would sell pompously at a compliment and sulk at an...

Too much of anything is bad, but too much Champagne is just right.

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.