What do you think?
Rate this book
255 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 22, 1922
With the awakening of his emotions, his first perception was a sense of futility, a dull ache at the utter grayness of his life. A wall had sprung up suddenly around him hedging him in, a wall as definite and tangible as the white wall of his bare room.
“Perry,” said the bad man softly when the roadster drew up beside him at the curb, “I’ve got six quarts of the doggonedest still champagne you ever tasted. A third of it’s yours, Perry, if you’ll come upstairs and help Martin Macy and me drink it.”
“Baily,” said Perry tensely, “I’ll drink your champagne. I’ll drink every drop of it, I don’t care if it kills me.”
“Shut up, you nut!” said the bad man gently. “They don’t put wood alcohol in champagne. This is the stuff that proves the world is more than six thousand years old. It’s so ancient that the cork is petrified.”
Peter suddenly reached over to a plate on the table beside him and picking up a handful of hash tossed it into the air. It descended as a languid parabola in snowflake effect on the heads of those nearby.
“He read at wine, he read in bed,
He read aloud, had he the breath,
His every thought was with the dead,
And so he read himself to death.”
And she had been drinking. The threefold flush in her cheeks was compounded of youth and wine and fine cosmetic – that he could tell. She was making great amusement for the young man on her left and the portly person on her right, and even for the old fellow opposite her, for the latter from time to time uttered the shocked and mildly reproachful cackles of another generation.
Here was the gayety of the period – the soft wine of eyes, the songs that flurried hearts, the toasts and tie bouquets, the dances and the dinners.
"'Jelly-bean' is the name throughout the undissolved Confederacy for one who spends his life conjugating the verb to idle in the first person singular--I am idling, I have idled, I will idle."
"Everybody's youth is a dream, a form of chemical madness."
"The years between thirty-five and sixty-five revolve before the passive mind as one unexplained, confusing merry-go-round of ill-gaited and wind-broken horses, painted first in pastel colors, then in dull grays and browns, but perplexing and intolerably dizzy the thing is, as never were the merry-go-rounds of childhood or adolescence, as never, surely, were the certain-coursed, dynamic roller coasters of youth."
"But it was too late. He had angered Providence by resisting too many temptations. There was nothing left but heaven, where he would meet only those, who, like him, had wasted earth."
"To these two life had come quickly and gone, leaving not bitterness, but pity; not disillusion, only pain. There was already enough moonlight when they shook hands for each to see the gathered kindness in the other's eyes."