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For what endless years this life will have to go on! He felt, with a kind of horror, his own strong youth and the bounding blood in his veins.

Edith Wharton

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Edith Wharton
Age: 75 †
Born: 1862
Born: January 24
Died: 1937
Died: August 11
Novelist
Poet
Prosaist
Translator
Writer
New York City
New York
Edith Newbold Jones
Edith Newbold Jones Wharton
Felt
Existential
Kind
Veins
Years
Endless
Life
Horror
Crisis
Youth
Blood
Strong
Bounding

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It was the old New York way...the way people who dreaded scandal more than disease, who placed decency above courage, and who considered that nothing was more ill-bred than scenes, except those who gave rise to them.
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People struggled on for years with 'troubles,' but they almost always succumbed to 'complications.
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[I]t's safer to be fond of dangerous people.
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There was no use in trying to emancipate a wife who had not the dimmest notion that she was not free.
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I despair of the Republic! Such dreariness, such whining sallow women, such utter absence of the amenities, such crass food, crass manners, crass landscape!! What a horror it is for a whole nation to be developing without the sense of beauty, and eating bananas for breakfast.
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He simply felt that if he could carry away the vision of the spot of earth she walked on, and the way the sky and sea enclosed it, the rest of the world might seem less empty.
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It was too late for happiness - but not too late to be helped by the thought of what I had missed. That is all I haved lived on - don't take it from me now
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It was harder to drown at sunrise than in darkness.
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Life is always either a tight -rope or a feather-bed . — Give me the tightrope.
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The true felicity of a lover of books is the luxurious turning of page by page, the surrender, not meanly abject, but deliberate and cautious, with your wits about you, as you deliver yourself into the keeping of the book. This I call reading.
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There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.
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I wonder why rich people always grow fat I suppose it's because there's nothing to worry them.
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Life's just a perpetual piecing together of broken bits.
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Yes, you have been away a very long time.' 'Oh, centuries and centuries so long,' she said, 'that I'm sure I'm dead and buried and this dear old place is heaven.
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Don't you ever mind, she asked suddenly, not being rich enough to buy all the books you want?
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He had married (as most young men did) because he had met a perfectly charming girl at the moment when a series of rather aimless sentimental adventures were ending in premature disgust and she had represented peace, stability, comradeship, and the steadying sense of an unescapable duty.
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