Biography is the falsest of the arts.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
A mile from the sea, where pines give way to dusty poplars, is an isolated railroad stop, whence one June morning in 1925 a victoria brought a woman and her daughter down to Gausse's Hotel. The mother's face was of a fading prettiness that.
Life is so damned hard, so damned hard... It just hurts people and hurts people, until finally it hurts them so that they can't be hurt ever any more. That's the last and worst thing it does.
The compensation of a very early success is a conviction that life is a romantic matter. In the best sense one stays young.
The world, as a rule, does not live on beaches and in country clubs.