There is a close relationship between flowers and convicts. The fragility and delicacy of the former are of the same nature as the brutal insensitivity of the latter.

Worse than not realizing the dreams of your youth, would be to have been young and never dreamed at all.

The vaporish cocaine loosens the contours of their lives and sets their bodies adrift, and so they are untouchable.

The pimp has a grin, never a smile.

Would Hamlet have felt the delicious fascination of suicide if he hadn't had an audience, and lines to speak?

It's the hour when night breaks away from the day, my dove, let me go.

Crimes of which a people is ashamed constitute its real history. The same is true of man.