“Here's to alcohol, the rose colored glasses of life.”
“Things are sweeter when they're lost. I know--because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly, Dot, and when I got it it turned to dust in my hand.”
“That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you're not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.”
“There are all kinds of love in this world but never the same love twice.”
“At eighteen our convictions are hills from which we look; at forty-five they are caves in which we hide.”
“You know, you’re a little complicated after all.”
“Oh no,” she assured him hastily. “No, I’m not really - I’m just a - I’m just a whole lot of different simple people.”
“Grown up, and that is a terribly hard thing to do. It is much easier to skip it and go from one childhood to another.”
Either you think--or else others have to think for you and take power from you, pervert and discipline your natural tastes, civilize and sterilize you.
It is in the thirties that we want friends. In the forties we know they won't save us any more than love did.
No comments:
Post a Comment