Death Is The Only Real Elegance.

Millie Beggs, By The Time She Was Forty-five, Had Become An Emotional Anarchist.

Don't You Think I Was Made For You? I Feel Like You Had Me Ordered - And I Was Delivered To You - To Be Worn. I Want You To Wear Me, Like A Watch-charm Or A Buttonhole Bouquet.

Mr. Fitzgerald-i Believe That Is How He Spells His Name-seems To Believe That Plagiarism Begins At Home.

Anything Incomprehensible Has A Sexual Significance To Many People Under Thirty-five.

I Am Really Only Myself When I'm Somebody Else Whom I Have Endowed With These Wonderful Qualities From My Imagination.