Liberate yourself from my vice-like grip!

If a body catch a body coming through the rye.

A confessional passage has probably never been written that didn't stink a little bit of the writer's pride in having given up his pride.

Or you'd just passed by one of those puddles in the street with gasoline rainbows in them. I mean you'd be different in some way—I can't explain what I mean. And even if I could, I'm not sure I'd feel like it.

Real ugly girls have it tough. I feel so sorry for them sometimes.

I'm sick of not having the courage to be an absolute nobody. I'm sick of myself and everybody else that wants to make some kind of a splash.

If you do something too good, then, after a while, if you don't watch it, you start showing off. And then you're not as good any more.