Well, there I was, way off my ambitions, getting deeper in love every minute, and all of a sudden I didn't care. - F. Scott Fitzgerald

Dear, don't think of getting out of bed yet. I've always suspected that early rising in early life makes one nervous.

He was so terrible that he was no longer terrible, only dehumanized.

The sheath that held her soul had assumed significance - that was all. She was a sun, radiant, growing, gathering light and storing it - then after an eternity pouring it forth in a glance, the fragment of a sentence, to that part of him that cherished all beauty and all illusion.