So He Waited, Listening For A Moment

She Was A Faded But Still Lovely Woman Of Twenty-seven.

But You Can Love More Than Just One Person, Can't You?

When The First-rate Author Wants An Exquisite Heroine Or A Lovely Morning, He Finds That All The Superlatives Have Been Worn Shoddy By His Inferiors. It Should Be A Rule That Bad Writers Must Start With Plain Heroines And Ordinary Mornings, And, If They Are Able, Work Up To Something Better.

Dishonesty In A Woman Is A Thing You Never Blame Deeply.

Though The Jazz Age Continued It Became Less And Less An Affair Of Youth. The Sequel Was Like A Children's Party Taken Over By The Elders.