She had an inside and an outside now and suddenly she knew how not to mix them.
I was surrounded by phonies. . . They were coming in the goddam window.
Don't hate me because I can't remember some person immediately. Especially when they look like everybody else, and talk and dress and act like everybody else.
It's not too bad when the sun's out, but the sun only comes out when it feels like coming out.
The room was not impressively large, even by Manhattan apartment-house standards, but its accumulated furnishings might have lent a snug appearance to a banquet hall in Valhalla.
Phooey, I say, on all white-shoe college boys who edit their campus literary magazines. Give me an honest con man any day.
I’m not going to bed after all. Somebody around here hath murdered sleep. Good for him.
Most people believe the mind to be a mirror, more or less accurately reflecting the world outside them, not realizing on the contrary that the mind is itself the principal element of creation.
All crises, once averted, become jokes.
Nothing gold can stay.
perhaps all this modern ferment of what's known as 'social conscience' or 'civic responsibility' isn't a result of the sense of duty, but of the old, old craving for beauty.