I have heard unsavory rumors about you and the umbrella-maker's daughter

He felt so lost, he said later, that the familiar studio felt like a haunted valley deep in the mountains, with the smell of rotting leaves, the spray of a waterfall, the sour fumes of fruit stashed away by a monkey; even the dim glow of the master's oil lamp on its tripod looked to him like misty moonlight in the hills.

..he understood far more deeply than anyone else the loneliness that lurked beneath his jaunty mask.

Chained inside the carriage is a sinful woman. When we set the carriage afire, her flesh will be roasted, her bones will be charred: she will die an agonizing death. Never again will you have such a perfect model for the screen. Do not fail to watch as her snow-white flesh erupts in flames. See and remember her long black hair dancing in a whirl of sparks!

I could wish for nothing more than to die for a childish dream in which I truly believed.

Yes -- or rather, it's not so much that I want to die as that I'm tired of living.

Isn't there someone kind enough to come strangle me in my sleep?