God knows there certainly ought to be a window around here somewhere, for all of us.

You want to play house, you got to have a job. You want to play very nice house, very sweet house, then you got to have a job you don't like. Great. This is the way ninety-eight-point-nine per cent of the people work things out, so believe me, buddy, you've got nothing to apologize for.

if you wanted to do something absolutely honest, something true, it always turned out to be a thing that had to be done alone.

There's never been anything funny about a woman dying for love.

Why did everything always change when all you wanted, all you had ever humbly asked of whatever God there might be, was that certain things be allowed to stay the same?

Remember what Anatole France said about the dog masturbating on your leg--'Sure, it's honest, but who needs it?

Dying for love might be pitiable, but it wasn't much different, finally, from any other kind of dying.