"Don't tell me about it!" Amory almost shrieked. "Don't say a word; I'm tired and pepped out."
Tom looked at him queerly and then sank into a chair and opened his Italian note-book. Amory threw his coat and hat on the floor, loosened his collar, and took a Wells novel at random from the shelf. "Wells is sane," he thought, "and if he won't do I'll read Rupert Brooke."

—F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise