You cold or something?' he said. She strained against him; she wanted to pass clear through him: 'It's a chill, it's nothing'; and then, pushing a little away: 'Say you love me.'I said it.'No, oh no....
Who are they for?Friends. Not necessarily neighbor friends: indeed, the larger share is intended for persons we've met maybe once, perhaps not at all. People who've struck our fancy. Like President Ro...
The blame of course belonged to Clyde, who just was not much given to talk. Also, he seemed very little curious himself: Grady, alarmed sometimes by the meagerness of his inquiries and the indifferenc...
She was still hugging the cat. Poor slob, she said, tickling his head, poor slob without a name. It's a little inconvenient, his not having a name. But I haven't any right to give him one: he'll have...
Just remember: If one bird carried every grain of sand, grain by grain, across the ocean, by the time he got them all on the other side, that would only be the beginning of eternity.
It's bad enough in life to do without something YOU want; but confound it, what gets my goat is not being able to give somebody something you want THEM to have.
It's a very excruciating life facing that blank piece of paper every day and having to reach up somewhere into the clouds and bring something down out of them.
Imagination, of course, can open any door - turn the key and let terror walk right in.
If a man doesn't like baseball, then he must like horses, and if he doesn't like either of them, well, I'm in trouble anyway: he don't like girls.
I told you: you can make yourself love anybody.
I thought that Mr. Clutter was a very nice gentleman. I thought so right up to the moment that I cut his throat.
I prefer to underwrite. Simple, clear as a country creek.
Her bedroom window overlooked the garden, and now and then, usually when she was having a bad spell, Mr. Helm had seen her stand long hours gazing into the garden, as though what she saw bewitched her...
He wants awfully to be inside staring out: anybody with their nose pressed against a glass is liable to look stupid.
For all her chic thinness, she had an almost breakfast-cereal air of health, a soap-and-lemon cleanness, a rough pink darkening of the cheeks.
Dizzy with excitement is no mere phrase.
I love New York, even though it isn't mine, the way something has to be, a tree or a street or a house, something, anyway, that belongs to me because I belong to it.
Before publication, and if provided by persons whose judgment you trust, yes, of course criticism helps. But after something is published, all I want to read or hear is praise.
You don't run out on people; you run out on yourself.
You are a human being with a free will. Which puts you above the animal level. But if you live your life without feeling and compassion for your fellowman—you are as an animal—an