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As for Tom, the fact that he 'had some woman in New York' was really less surprising than that he had been depressed by a book.

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my head ever since.
'Whenever you feel like criticising anyone', he told me, 'just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had.'

'I wouldn't ask too much of her,' I ventured. 'You can't repeat the past.'

'Can't repeat the past?' he cried incredously. 'Why of course you can!'

He looked around him wildly, as if the past were lurking here in the shadow of his house, just out of reach of his hand.

And I like large parties. They're so intimate. At small parties there isn't any privacy.

Hver natt føyde han nye detaljer til sine fantasibilder, helt til søvnen kom og utslettet den siste strålende scenen. En stund tilfredsstillet disse fantasiforestillingene ham. De ga ham en viss idè om virkelighetens uvirkelighet, en garanti for at verdens grunnvoll hvilte sikkert på vingen til en fe.

Thirty - the promise of a decade of loneliness, a thinning list of single men to know, a thinning briefcase of enthusiasm, thinning hair.

Human sympathy has its limits, and we were content to let all their tragic arguments fade with the city lights behind.

(...) For a moment I thought I loved her. But I am slow-thinking, and full of interior rules that act as brakes on my desires.

Dishonesty in a woman is a thing you never blame deeply - I was casually sorry, and then I forgot.

He smiled understandingly - much more than understandingly. (...) It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you like you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.