I'd have liked to have leant against walls in thrillers.
Don't remember me as too nice or beautiful or funny, because then you'll be disappointed.
I won't write my autobiography because I never had an affair with Frank Sinatra, and if I had had, I wouldn't tell anyone.
This can't last. This misery can't last. I must remember that and try to control myself. Nothing lasts really. Neither happiness nor despair. Not even life lasts very long.