I began to like New York, the racy, adventurous feel of it at night, and the satisfaction that the constant flicker of men and women and machines giv… - F. Scott Fitzgerald

And lastly from that period I remember riding in a taxi one afternoon between very tall buildings under a mauve and rosy sky; I began to bawl because I had everything I wanted and knew I would never be so happy again.

And now Rosalind enters. Rosalind is — utterly Rosalind. She is one of those girls who need never make the slightest effort to have men fall in love with them. Two types of men seldom do: dull men are usually afraid of her cleverness and intellectual men are usually afraid of her beauty. All others are hers by natural prerogative.

Blessed are the dead that the rain falls on.