The life of the wealthy is one long Sunday.
The strides of humanity are slow, they can only be counted in centuries.
People like us are unhappy in this world and in the next, I guess if we made it to heaven, we'd have to help make it thunder.
And for tired eyes every light is too bright, and for tired lips every breath too heavy, and for tired ears every word too much.
We are always on stage, even when we are stabbed in earnest at the end.
You women could make someone fall in love even with a lie.