The story of my life is about back entrances, side doors, secret elevators and other ways of getting in and out of places so that people won't bother me.

I'm a completely worthless woman and no man should risk his life for me.

Gimme a visky with a ginger ale on the side - and don't be stinchy, beby.

It's midnight. One half of Paris is making love to the other half.

When one has not long to live, why shouldn't one have fancies?

I wish I were supernaturally strong so I could put right everything that is wrong.

Is there anything better than to be longing for something, when you know it is within reach?