She had been married to a man who had never bored her and these people bored her very much
Of all men the drunkard is the foulest. The thief when he is not stealing is like another. The extortioner does not practice in the home. The murderer when he is at home can wash his hands. But the dr...
Maybe...you'll fall in love with me all over again.Hell, I said, I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?Yes. I want to ruin you.Good, I said. That's what I want too.
Maybe away from Paris I could write about Paris as in Paris I could write about Michigan. I did not know it was too early for that because I did not know Paris well enough. But that was how it worked...
It was never what he had done,but always what he could do. And he had chosen to make his living with something else instead of a pen or a pencil
It was like certain dinners I remember from the war. There was much wine, an ignored tension, and a feeling of things coming that you could not prevent happening.
It is never hopeless. But sometimes I cannot hope. I try always to hope but sometimes I cannot.
In the morning there was a big wind blowing and the waves were running high up on the beach and he was awake a long time before he remembered that his heart was broken.
I'll kill him though,' he said. 'In all his greatness and his glory.
I'd like to destroy you a few times in bed.
I'd be glad to kiss you if you don't mind.
I would stand and look out over the roofs of Paris and think, Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sente...
I only like two other things; one is bad for my work and the other is over in half an hour or fifteen minutes. Sometimes less. Sometimes a good deal less.
I love you and I always will and I am sorry. What a useless word.
I know the night is not the same as the day: that all things are different, that the things of the night cannot be explained in the day, because they do not then exist, and the night can be a dreadful...
I have tried to write by the old rule that how good a book is should be judged by the man who writes it by the excellence of the material that he eliminates.
I explained, winefully, how we did not do the things we wanted to; we never did such things.
I don’t. I don’t want anybody else to touch you. I’m silly. I get furious if they touch you.
I don't like to leave anything,' the man said. 'I don't like to leave things behind.
I don't feel any way,' the girl said. 'I just know things.