She had reached a turning point. She no longer believed that a situation could be made better by writing a poem about it.

She had reached a turning point. She no longer believed that a situation could be made better by writing a poem about it.

As new dawns go, this one is depressingly like the old dawn.

What must that be like? To be admired before you’ve even said a word, to be desired two or three hundred times a day by people who have absolutely no idea what you’re like?

When I was an actor, I worked with lots of men who had a bit of success early on, who were very good looking, who suddenly made a bit of money and who felt no embarrassment - and nor should they have done - about having a good time.

Why can’t you just love me? Why can’t you just be in love with me?

The attraction of a life devoted to sensation, pleasure and self would probably wear thin one day, but there was still plenty of time for that yet.