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 sel… - F. Scott Fitzgerald

The tears coursed down her cheeks - not freely, however, for when they came into contact with her heavily beaded eyelashes they assumed an inky color, and pursued the rest of their way in slow black rivulets. A humorous suggestion was made that she sing the notes on her face whereupon she threw up her hands, sank into a chair and went off into a deep vinous sleep.

I am too much a moralist at heart, and really want to preach at people in some acceptable form, rather than entertain them.

You seem to take things so personally, hating people and worshipping them — always thinking people are so important — especially yourselves. You just ask to be kicked around. I like people and I like them to like me, but I wear my heart where God put it — on the inside.