It's hard enough for me to write what I want to write without me trying to write what you say they want me to write which I don't want to write.

Being a memory play, it is dimly lighted, it is sentimental. It is not realistic.

Time goes by so fast. Nothin' can outrun it. Death commences too early--almost before you're half-acquainted with life--you meet the other.

The scene is memory and is therefore nonrealistic. Memory takes a lot of poetic license. It omits some details; others are exaggerated, according to the emotional value of the articles it touches, for memory is seated predominantly in the heart.

How beautiful it is and how easily it can be broken.

Stella: And when he comes back I cry on his lap like a baby.. [she smiles to herself] Blanche: I guess that is what is meant by being in love.

In human character, simplicity doesn't exist except among simpletons.