I Am Too Much A Moralist At

When A Girl Feels That She’s Perfectly Groomed And Dressed She Can Forget That Part Of Her. That’s Charm

This Is What I Think Now: That The Natural State Of The Sentient Adult Is A Qualified Unhappiness.

I Love Her And That's The Beginning And End Of Everything.

Gatsby Turned Out All Right At The End; It Is What Preyed On Gatsby, What Foul Dust Floated In The Wake Of His Dreams That Temporarily Closed Out My Interest In The Abortive Sorrows And Short-winded Elations Of Men.

You've Got An Awfully Kissable Mouth.