Tender Is the Night
Actually thats my secret I cant even talk about you to anybody because I dont want any more people to know how wonderful you are.
But I suppose you must touch life in order to spring from it.
Good manners are an admission that everybody is so tender that they have to be handled with gloves. Now, human respectyou don't call a man a coward or a liar lightly, but if you spend your life sparing people's feelings and feeding their vanity, you get so you can't distinguish what should be respected in them.
Hard to sit here and be close to you, and not kiss you.
He was so terrible that he was no longer terrible, only dehumanized.
I am a woman and my business is to hold things together.
My business is to tear them apart.
My business is to tear them apart.
I am tired of knowing nothing and being reminded of it all the time.
In any case you mustn't confuse a single failure with a final defeat.
In the dead white hours in Zurich staring into a stranger's pantry across the upshine of a street-lamp, he used to think that he wanted to be good, he wanted to be kind, he wanted to be brave and wise, but it was all pretty difficult. He wanted to be loved, too, if he could fit it in.
I want to give a really BAD party. I mean it. I want to give a party where theres a brawl and seductions and people going home with their feelings hurt and women passed out in the cabinet de toilette. You wait and see.
Later she remembered all the hours of the afternoon as happy -- one of those uneventful times that seem at the moment only a link between past and future pleasure, but turn out to have been the pleasure itself.
My God,' he gasped, 'you're fun to kiss.
New friends can often have a better time together than old friends.
One writes of scars healed, a loose parallel to the pathology of the skin, but there is no such thing in the life of an individual. There are open wounds, shrunk sometimes to the size of a pin-prick but wounds still. The marks of suffering are more comparable to the loss of a finger, or of the sight of an eye. We may not miss them, either, for one minute in a year, but if we should there is nothing to be done about it.
People living alone get used to loneliness.
She smiled, a moving childish smile that was like all the lost youth in the world.
She smiled at him, making sure that the smile gathered up everything inside her and directed it toward him, making him a profound promise of herself for so little, for the beat of a response, the assurance of a complimentary vibration in him.
Someday I'm going to find somebody and love him and love him and never let him go.
Sometimes it is harder to deprive oneself of a pain than of a pleasure and the memory so possessed him that for the moment there was nothing to do but to pretend.
Somewhere inside me therell always be the person I am to-night
Strange children should smile at each other and say, "Let's play.
the best contacts are when one knows the obstacles and still wants to preserve a relation.
There are open wounds, shrunk sometimes to the size of a pin-prick but wounds still.
They were still in the happier stage of love. They were full of brave illusions about each other, tremendous illusions, so that the communion of self with self seemed to be on a plane where no other human relations mattered. They both seemed to have arrived there with an extraordinary innocence as though a series of pure accidents had driven them together, so many accidents that at last they were forced to conclude that they were for each other. They had arrived with clean hands, or so it seemed, after no traffic with the merely curious and clandestine.
Think how you love me," she whispered. "I dont ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside me therell always be the person I am to-night.
Well, you never knew exactly how much space you occupied in people's lives.
Well, you never knew exactly how much space you occupied in people's lives. Yet from this fog his affection emerged--the best contacts are when one knows the obstacles and still wants to preserve a relation.
When you're older you'll know what people who love suffer. The agony. It's better to be cold and young than to love. It's happened to me before but never like this - so accidental - just when everything was going well.
You're the only girl I've seen for a long time that actually did look like something blooming.
You will walk differently alone, dear, through a thicker atmosphere, forcing your way through the shadows of chairs, through the dripping smoke of the funnels. You will feel your own reflection sliding along the eyes of those who look at you. You are no longer insulated; but I suppose you must touch life in order to spring from it.