Then I grew up, and the beauty of succulent illusions fell away from me. - F. Scott Fitzgerald

They're such beautiful shirts,' she sobbed, her voice muffled in the thick folds. 'It makes me sad because I've never seen such - such beautiful shirts before.

They were still in the happier stages of love. They were full of brave illusions about each other, tremendous illusions, so that the communion of self with self seemed to be on a plane where no other human relations mattered.

In this heat every extra gesture was an affront to the common store of life.