It made no difference to me. Dishonesty in a woman is a thing you never blame deeply. - F. Scott Fitzgerald

Dishonesty in a woman is a thing you never blame deeply.

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.

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

He read at wine, he read in bed, He read aloud, had he the breath, His every thought was with the dead, And so he read himself to death.