This is the saddest story I have ever heard.
There won’t be any more parades after this war. There aren’t any now.
Then, happy was the man who carried his liquor well.
The rocks would be there a million years after the light went for the last time out.
My dear, it couldn’t have lasted for ever … But you’re a good man. And very clever… . You will get through….
Isn't there any heaven where old beautiful dances, old beautiful intimacies prolong themselves?
He wouldn't write a letter because he couldn't without beginning it 'Dear Sylvia' and ending it 'Yours sincerely' or 'truly' or 'affectionately.' He's that sort of precise imbecile. I tell you he's so...
He carried that obsession with him always. And in the end, by its very wrongness, it saved his life.
Edith Ethel with the sweetest possible smile would beg the pillows off a whole hospital ward full of dying…. She
A world profits by the example of a steadfast nation….
Then, Father Consett said, if ye know him so well, Sylvia Satterthwaite, how is it ye can't get on with him better? They say: Tout savoir c'est tout pardonner. It isn't, Sylvia said. To know everythin...
If you hunch your shoulders too long against a storm your shoulders will grow bowed.…
I thought suddenly that she wasn't real; she was just a mass of talk out of guidebooks, of drawings out of fashion-plates.
Higher than the beasts, lower than the angels, stuck in our idiot Eden.
And it was a most remarkable, a most moving glance, as if for a moment a lighthouse had looked at me.
And Sylvia Tietjens wavered into the room.
You see in such a world as this, an idealist — or perhaps it’s only a sentimentalist — must be stoned to death.
Upon my soul!' Tietjens said to himself, 'that girl down there is the only intelligent living soul I've met for years.' A little pronounced in manner sometimes; faulty in reasoning naturally, but quit...
The signal for the train's departure was a very bright red; that is about as passionate a statement as I can get into that scene.
The beastliness of human nature is always pretty normal. We lie and betray and are wanting in imagination and deceive ourselves, always, at about the same rate.