Ah, bless you, Sister, may all your sons be bishops.
New York is my Lourdes, where I go for spiritual refreshment... a place where you're least likely to be bitten by a wild goat.
I'm a drinker with a writing problem.
You made one mistake. You married me.
God forgive us-but most of us grew up to be the sort of men our mothers warned us against.
There's no one, no one, loves you like yourself.