I'm going to enjoy what I've got as long as it lasts.
I think people often try to find through sex things that are much easier to find in other ways.
I think friendships are the result of certain needs that can be completely hidden from both people, sometimes hidden forever.
I got a theory a person ought to do everything it’s possible to do before he dies, and maybe die trying to do something that’s really impossible.
What a strange girl you are. Why? Flung out of space, Carol said.
The law was not society, it began. Society was people like himself and Owen and Brillhart, who hadn't the right to take the life of another member of society. And yet the law did. And yet the law is s...
She’s everything that should be loathed, he went on, staring in front of him. Sometimes I think I hate everything in the world. No decency, no conscience. She’s what people mean when they say America...
She was conscious of the moments passing like irrevocable time, irrevocable happiness, for in these last seconds she might turn and see the face she would never see again.
For neither life nor nature cares if justice is ever done or not.
Don’t you know I love you?’ Carol said.
Tom laughed at the phrase sexual deviation. Where was the sex? Where was the deviation? He looked at Freddie and said low and bitterly: Freddie Miles, you're a victim of your own dirty mind.
Mr Greenleaf was such a decent fellow himself, he took it for granted that everybody else in the world was decent, too. Tom had almost forgotten such people existed.
He felt he was about to experience again some ancient, delicious childhood moment that the steam calliope's sour hollowness, the stitching hurdy-gurdy accompaniment, and the drum-and-cymbal crash brou...
You ask if I miss you. I think of your voice, your hands, and your eyes when you look straight into mine. I remember your courage that I hadn't suspected, and it gives me courage.
Who am I, anyway? Does one exist, or to what extent does one exist as an individual without friends, family, anybody to whom one can relate, to whom one’s existence is of the least importance?
What could be duller than past history!' Therese said, smiling. 'Maybe futures that won't have any history.
The night was a time for bestial affinities, for drawing closer to oneself.
The dusky and faintly sweet smell of her perfume came to Therese again, a smell suggestive of dark green silk, that was hers alone, like the smell of a special flower.
Something always turned up. That was Tom's philosophy.
She tried to keep her voice steady, but it was pretense, like pretending self-control when something you loved was dead in front of your eyes. They would have to separate here.