Love Story

“A good piece. A really good piece.”
That’s all Joel Fleishman, the senior editor, could repeat again and again. Frankly, I had expected a more articulate compliment from the guy who would next year clerk for Justice Douglas, but that’s all he kept saying as he checked over my final draft. Christ, Jenny had told me it was “incisive, intelligent and really well written

LOVE STORY. Copyright © 1970 by Erich Segal.

And then I did what I had never done in his presence, much less in his arms. I cried.

“Oliver,” he said, “you should have told me.”

Would you please hold me very tight?” she asked

“Screw Paris,” she said suddenly.

“Listen, that’s the only goddamn thing I’m asking, Ollie. Otherwise, I know you’ll be okay.”

It’s nobody’s fault, you preppie bastard,” she was saying. “Would you please stop blaming yourself!”

You don’t know about falling off cliffs, Preppie,” she said. “You never fell off one in your goddamn life.”

You don’t know about falling off cliffs, Preppie