A sense of responsibility would spoil her. She's too pretty. - F. Scott Fitzgerald

Each night he added to the pattern of his fancies until drowsiness closed down upon some vivid scene with an oblivious embrace. For awhile these reveries provided an outlet for his imagination; they were a satisfactory hint of the unreality of reality, a promise that the rock of the world was founded securely on a fairy's wing.

Wine gave a sort of gallantry to their own failure.

There's no substitute for will. Sometimes you have to fake will when you don't feel it at all.