“Yes, a ghost, thought the Count, as he moved silently down the hall. Like Hamlet’s father roaming the ramparts of Elsinore after the midnight watch . . . Or like Akaky Akakievich, that forsaken spirit of Gogol’s who in the wee hours haunted… — Amor Towles Copy Share Image
“To have even one year when you're presented with choices that can alter your circumstances, your character, your course- that's by the grace of… — Amor Towles Copy Share Image
“Rather than sitting in orderly rows in a schoolhouse, wouldn't one be better served by working her way towards an actual horizon, so that… — Amor Towles Copy Share Image
That's how quickly New York City comes about - like a weather wane - or the head of a cobra. Time tells which. — Amor Towles Copy Share Image
“Mostly, he said, I've been thinking about what I'm not going to do. When I think of the last few years, I've been hounded… — Amor Towles Copy Share Image
“In the doleful court behind my building a patchwork of windows was all that separated me from a hundred muted lives being led without… — Amor Towles Copy Share Image
“That is how time passes when one is left waiting unaccountably. The hours become interminable. The minutes relentless. And the seconds? Why, not only… — Amor Towles Copy Share Image
“Mishka would pine for Katerina the rest of his life! Never again would he walk Nevsky Prospekt, however they chose to rename it, without… — Amor Towles Copy Share Image
Every year, I would spend weeks at a time in the hotels of distant cities. — Amor Towles Copy Share Image
“For eventually, we come to hold our dearest possessions more closely than we hold our friends.” — Amor Towles Copy Share Image
“As we age, we are bound to find comfort from the notion that it takes generations for a way of life to fade. We… — Amor Towles Copy Share Image
“For it is the role of the parent to express his concerns and then take three steps back. Not one, mind you, not two,… — Amor Towles Copy Share Image
“But I've come to realie that however blue my circumstance,s if after finishing a chapter of a Dickens novel I feel a miss-my-stop-on-the-train sort… — Amor Towles Copy Share Image
