The way his plump hand clutched at her hip seemed somehow improper; not morally, aesthetically.

We all, sometimes, leave each other there under the skies, and we never understand why.

I've been working, working, working, and you know, sometimes you look back at your work and you see that it just isn't any good.

As long as you live, there's always something waiting; and even if it's bad, and you know it's bad, what can you do? You can't stop living.

It is very seldom that a person loves anyone they cannot in some way envy.

Still, when all is said, somewhere one must belong: even the soaring falcon returns to its master's wrist.

To wake up one morning and feel that I was a last a grown-up person, emptied of resentment, vengeful thoughts and other wasteful childish emotions. To find myself, in other words, an adult. Truman Capote