It was sad, it was sad, it was sad. When Betty came back we didn't sing or laugh, or even argue. We sat drinking in the dark, smoking cigarettes, and when we went to sleep, I didn't put my feet on her body or she on mine like we used to. We slept without touching. We had both been robbed.

she is no longer the beautiful woman she was. she sends photos of herself sitting upon a rock by the ocean alone and damned. I could have had her once. I wonder if she thinks I could have saved her?

I would be married, but I'd have no wife, I would be married to a single life.

What a weary time those years were -- to have the desire and the need to live but not the ability.

Bad taste creates many more millionaires than good taste.

In New York you've got to have all the luck.

Let it die. Let there be a new beginning. It’s awful. Goodnight.