Yes, I am sad, sad as a circus-lioness, sad as an eagle without wings, sad as a violin with only one string and that one broken, sad as a woman who is growing old. Sad, sad, sad.

Soon he'll come in again and kiss me, but differently. He'll be different and so I'll be different. It'll be different. I thought, 'It'll be different, different. It must be different.

Age seldom arrives smoothly or quickly. It's more often a succession of jerks.

For the first time she had dimly realized that only the hopeless are starkly sincere and that only the unhappy can either give or take sympathy--even some of the bitter and dangerous voluptuousness of misery.

very few people change after well say seven or seventeen. Not really. They get more this or more that and of course look a bit different. But inside they are the same.

Blot out the moon, Pull down the stars. Love in the dark, for we're for the dark So soon, so soon.

You can pretend for a long time, but one day it all falls away and you are alone. We are alone in the most beautiful place in the world.