Memory is a crazy woman who hoards colored rags and throws away food.
I want to tell them, "Chip, Kim, there is no way to suicide-proof a person.
Cut the ending. Revise the script. The man of her dreams is a girl.
. . . the man of my dreams is a girl.
Me? I had no dreams. No longings. Dreams only set you up for disappointment. Plus, you had to have a life to have dreams of a better life.
Is that all I am? A friend?" "Of course not," I say. "I love you. " "Am I the only one?" she asks. "Yes. Completely. " First, last, and always.
Your failures and your faults, they stick with you. They glob into ugly, cancerous growths inside you and make you want to die.
Actresses are nightmares. I don't hang out with any of them. That's a problem with my profession. I try not to be like an actress
Freedom of a nation cannot be won by solitary acts of heroism though they may be of the true type, never by heroism so called.
Producer's Surplus is a convenient name for the genus of which the rent of land is the leading species.
If I had to be anything," he told her, "I'd probably be a socialist, but I don't want to be anything.