There's never been anything funny about a woman dying for love.
A man could rant and smash and grapple with the State Police, and still the sprinklers whirled at dusk on every lawn and the television droned in every living room.
I'm only interested in stories that are about the crushing of the human heart.
Know what we did, Lucy? You and me? We spent our whole lives yearning. Isn't that the God damndest thing?
Being alone has nothing to do with how many people are around.
No one forgets the truth; they just get better at lying.