… Well this side of Paradise!⁠ ⁠… There’s little comfort in the wise. Rupert Brooke Experience is the name so many people give to their mistakes. Oscar Wilde...

To Sigourney Fay...

Amory Blaine inherited from his mother every trait, except the stray inexpressible few, that made him worth while. His father, an ineffectual, inarticulate man with a taste for Byron and a habit of dr...

Amory Blaine inherited from his mother every trait, except the stray inexpressible few, that made him worth while. His father, an ineffectual, inarticulate man with a taste for Byron and a habit of dr...

At first Amory noticed only the wealth of sunshine creeping across the long, green swards, dancing on the leaded windowpanes, and swimming around the tops of spires and towers and battlemented walls. ...

“Ouch! Let me go!” He dropped his arms to his sides. “What’s the matter?” “Your shirt stud⁠—it hurt me⁠—look!” She was looking down at her neck, where a little blue spot about the size of a pea marred...

During Princeton’s transition period, that is, during Amory’s last two years there, while he saw it change and broaden and live up to its Gothic beauty by better means than night parades, certain indi...

A letter dated January, 1918, written by Monsignor Darcy to Amory, who is a second lieutenant in the 171st Infantry, Port of Embarkation, Camp Mills, Long Island. My dear Boy: All you need tell me of ...

The time is February. The place is a large, dainty bedroom in the Connage house on Sixty-eighth Street, New York. A girl’s room: pink walls and curtains and a pink bedspread on a cream-colored bed. Pi...

The time is February. The place is a large, dainty bedroom in the Connage house on Sixty-eighth Street, New York. A girl’s room: pink walls and curtains and a pink bedspread on a cream-colored bed. Pi...

The Knickerbocker Bar, beamed upon by Maxfield Parrish’s jovial, colorful Old King Cole, was well crowded. Amory stopped in the entrance and looked at his wristwatch; he wanted particularly to know th...

For years afterward when Amory thought of Eleanor he seemed still to hear the wind sobbing around him and sending little chills into the places beside his heart. The night when they rode up the slope ...

Atlantic City. Amory paced the board walk at day’s end, lulled by the everlasting surge of changing waves, smelling the half-mournful odor of the salt breeze. The sea, he thought, had treasured its me...

“A fathom deep in sleep I lie With old desires, restrained before, To clamor lifeward with a cry, As dark flies out the greying door; And so in quest of creeds to share I seek assertive day again⁠ ⁠… ...