I'm not living with you. We occupy the same cage. (Maggie)

Personal lyricism is the outcry of prisoner to prisoner from the cell in solitary where each is confined for the duration of his life.

Life is all memory, except for the one present moment that goes by you so quickly you hardly catch it going.

For time is the longest distance between two places.

Devils can be driven out of the heart by the touch of a hand on a hand, or a mouth on a mouth.

Oh, Jacques, we're used to each other, we're a pair of captive hawks caught in the same cage, and so we've grown used to each other. That's what passes for love at this dim, shadowy end of the Camino Real.

Security is a kind of death.