Angelika

“He lived and moved in a curiously exalted, isolated world between his office on Fifth Avenue, which resembled a millionaire's apartment, and his bachelor apartment on Park, which resembled a business man's office. He moved in a vicious circle so rapid that he hadn't even time to realize how rich he was. It was only during his hurried passage between these two high perches [...] that Ludlow Walcot's feet had any contact with his mother earth. All day and all night (for not even his dreams were his own) his giddy brain was assailed by business details which hammered at it with the persistence of a riveting machine, his stomach insulted by snacks and patent nerve-foods, that jostled each other in competing for the attention of his bewildered digestion.”
― Francis Brett Young, Cage Bird, And Other Stories

“her mind was full not of facts, but of glamour;”
― Francis Brett Young, Cage Bird, And Other Stories

“Peaceful and lovely though his country seemed, there was nothing in it that clutched at his heart and dragged it out by the roots. He didn't belong to it, could never belong to it. He knew those picturesque cottages! It was probable that not one in five hundred possessed a bathroom, much less up-to-date plumbing or steam-heating or electric refrigeration. All this talk about "calls of the blood" was simply bunk. He had always described himself as a hundred-per-cent. American. At that moment the percentage had risen to a hundred and fifty. Probably, by the time he had got to Ludlow, it would reach two hundred.”
― Francis Brett Young, Cage Bird, And Other Stories

“The desert's illimitable freedom," the officer murmured, as he poured out Simon's whiskey. "It's not altogether her fault, Mr. Jackson. It's these damned novelists. Every novel written about the desert should be censored by the police.”
― Francis Brett Young, Cage Bird, And Other Stories