The rich son waits for his father to die, the poor just drink and cry.
I'm not leaving New York. And neither is anyone else. We're here. We are quintessential Americans - we're not only American, but New York-American.
Life's like a mayonnaise soda.
I wish I had a talking book that told me how to act and look, a talking book that contained keys to past and present memories
I never liked the Beatles. I thought they were garbage.
Jealousy endlessly eats through my mind, and jealously endlessly makes me be unkind.