Integrity is not a conditional word. It doesn't blow in the wind or change with the weather.

Now it stands to reason, mister, any damn fool stares into the sun long enough, he'll end up seeing exactly what some other damn fool tells him he's going to see.

As I holed up in the City of Angels, I was also aware of a comforting feeling of anonymity. In the world's biggest third-class city I could pass unnoticed. I spoke the language. I was familiar with the currency. I could drink the water. I could almost breathe the air, late April air, compounded of interesting hydrocarbons.

If the cards are stacked against you, reshuffle the deck.

The only thing in the world worth a damn is the strange, touching, pathetic, awesome nobility of the individual human spirit.

I am not suited to the role of going around selling the life-can-be-beautiful idea. It can be, indeed. But you don't buy the concept from your friendly door-to-door lecture salesman.

We were about to give up and call it a night when somebody threw the girl off the bridge.