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Ah, the poverty, the miserable poverty, of any love that lies outside of marriage, of any love that is not a living together, a sharing of all!

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
Outside
Poverty
Marriage
Lying
Living
Together
Sharing
Love
Miserable
Lies

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When people ask for time, it's always for time to say no. Yes has one more letter in it, but it doesn't take half as long to say.
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Life is made up of compromises.
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Her vivid smile was like a light held up to dazzle me.
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I have drunk of the wine of life at last, I have known the thing best worth knowing, I have been warmed through and through, never to grow quite cold again till the end.
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True originality consists not in a new manner but in a new vision.
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Misfortune had made Lily supple instead of hardening her, and a pliable substance is less easy to break than a stiff one.
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To visit Morocco is still like turning the pages of some illuminated Persian manuscript all embroidered with bright shapes and subtle lines.
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The desire for symmetry, for balance, for rhythm in form as well as in sound, is one of the most inveterate of human instincts.
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She wondered if, when human souls try to get too near each other, they do not inevitably become mere blurs to each other's vision.
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Little as she was addicted to solitude, there had come to be moments when it seemed a welcome escape from the empty noises of her life.
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In the summer New York was the only place in which one could escape from New Yorkers.
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There's no such thing as old age, there is only sorrow.
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But after a moment a sense of waste and ruin overcame him. There they were, close together and safe and shut in yet so chained to their separate destinies that they might as well been half the world apart.
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He had to deal all at once with the packed regrets and stifled memories of an inarticulate lifetime.
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The taste of the usual was like cinders in his mouth, and there were moments when he felt as if he were being buried alive under his future.
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I don't know that I should care for a man who made life easy I should want some one who made it interesting.
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Then stay with me a little longer,' Madame Olenska said in a low tone, just touching his knee with her plumed fan. It was the lightest touch, but it thrilled him like a caress.
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