You see, I usually find myself among strangers because I drift here and there trying to forget the sad thing that happened to me.
I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes, and felt it in others — poor young clerks who loitered in front of windows waiting until it was time for a solitary restaurant dinner — young clerks in the dusk, wasting the most poignant moments of night and life.
Writers aren’t people exactly. Or, if they’re any good, they’re a whole lot of people trying so hard to be one person. It’s like actors, who try so pathetically not to look in mirrors. Who lean backward trying — only to see their faces in the reflecting chandeliers.
Whenever you feel like criticizing any one, just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.
I hope she’ll be a fool — that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.
Everywhere we go and move on and change, something’s lost — something’s left behind. You can’t ever quite repeat anything, and I’ve been so yours, here.