Human Sympathy Has Its Limits.

The Invitation To Miss Myra St. Claire's Bobbing Party Spent The Morning In His Coat Pocket, Where It Had An Intense Physical Affair With A Dusty Piece Of Peanut Brittle.

Art Isn't Meaningless... It Is In Itself. It Isn't In That It Tries To Make Life Less So.

Riches Have Never Fascinated Me, Unless Combined With The Greatest Charm Or Distinction.

What Was The Use Of Doing Great Things If I Could Have A Better Time Telling Her What I Was Going To Do?

Rosemary Felt That This Swim Would Become The Typical One Of Her Life, The One That Would Always Pop Up In Her Memory At The Mention Of Swimming.