What’s the use of remembering anything? If it was unpleasant it was unpleasant and if it was pleasant it’s over.

It's difficult to explain, but I just somehow feel that I never really *have* lived; that I never really will live--exist or whatever--in the sense that other people do. It drives me crazy. I was terribly aware of it all those nights waiting for you in the Ritz bar looking around at what seemed to be real grown-up lives. I just find everybody else's life surrounded by plate glass. I mean I'd like to break through it just once and actually touch one.

Oh, Teddy, darling, thank you, thank you, for restoring my cynicism. I was too young to lose it.

The world is wide, wide, wide, and I am young, young, young, and we’re all going to live forever!

What’s the use of remembering anything? If it was unpleasant it was unpleasant and if it was pleasant it’s over.

That's my answer to the question what is your strongest emotion, if you ever want to ask me: Curiosity, old bean. Curiosity every time.

Acting doesn't bring anything to a text. On the contrary, it detracts from it.