And another hundred people just got off of the train.

I am old. I am ugly. I embarrass you.

Your hippy-dippy homosexuals.

We’ll build a cocoon of love and respect.

Mapping out a sky, what you feel like, planning a sky, what you feel when voices that come through the window go until they distance and die, until there’s nothing but sky.

Lounging in their caftans and planning a brunch on their own behalf.

I don't care what she thinks about me, just as long as she thinks about me.

A gun claims many men before it’s done.

Isn’t it bliss?

Tell me what you feel.

I’m someone to be loved, and that I learned from you.

Does he miss me?

Just enough talent to know that I hadn't the talent.

There's always a woman to spoil the illusion.

Mrs. Mooney has a pie shop, does a business, but I notice something weird—lately, all her neighbors’ cats have disappeared.

Where's the day I'll have started forgetting?

Darling, perhaps a change of pace.

Every day a little sting in the heart and in the head. Every move and every breath, and you hardly feel a thing, brings a perfect little death.

The bong of the bell of the buoy in the bay and the boy and the bride and the boat are away!

My fault, I fear.