In all these years, you never believed I loved you. And I did. I did so much. I did love you. I even loved your hate and your hardness.

We've had this date with each other from the beginning.

William Saroyan wrote a great play on this theme, that purity of heart is the one success worth having. "In the time of your life--live!" That time is short and it doesn't return again. It is slipping away while I write this and while you read it, and the monosyllable of the clock is Loss, loss, loss, unless you devote your heart to its opposition.

The most dangerous word in any human tongue is the word for brother. It's inflammatory.

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.

A vacuum is a hell of a lot better than some of the stuff that nature replaces it with.

To change is to live, to live is to change, and not to change is to die.