If you hated me, if you were covered with sores like a leper, if you ran away with another woman or starved me or beat me—how absurd this sounds—I'd still want you, I'd still love you. I KNOW, my darling.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Every one suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues.
This unlikely story begins on a sea that was a blue dream, as colorful as blue-silk stockings, and beneath a sky as blue as the irises of children's eyes.
If I knew words enough, I could write the longest love letter in the world and never get tired.
They were a satisfactory hint of the unreality of reality, a promise that the rock of the world was founded securely on a fairy's wing.
Do you mind if I pull down the curtain?