Sorrow makes for sincerity, I think.
When things don’t change, their sameness becomes an accretion. That is why all society puts on flesh. Succumbs to the cubicles and begins to fill them.
It is a terrible thing for an old woman to outlive her dogs.
And then the searchlight which had been turned on the world was turned off again and never for one moment since has there been any light that’s stronger than this-kitchen-candle...
The trouble with this world is that everybody has to compromise and conform.
In human character, simplicity doesn’t exist except among simpletons.
I know I fib a good deal. After all, a woman’s charm is fifty per cent illusion, but when a thing is important I tell the truth. – Blanche Scene II.
I talk out the lines as I write them.
All creative work, all life in a sense, is a cri de coeur.
I don’t think there is such a thing as a precise sexual orientation. I think we’re all ambiguous sexually.
Just another four-letter word.
Morning can always be counted on to bring us back to a more realistic level.
But I think the spirit of man is a good adversary.
Men don’t want anything they get too easy. But on the other hand, men lose interest quickly.
How beautiful it is and how easily it can be broken.
Some things are not forgiveable. Deliberate cruelty is not forgiveable. It is the most unforgiveable thing in my opinion, and the one thing in which I have never, ever been guilty.
Personal lyricism is the outcry of prisoner to prisoner from the cell in solitary where each is confined for the duration of his life.
They chatter together like birds on Cypress Hill, but all they say is ‘Live, live, live, live, live!’ It’s all they’ve learned, it’s the only advice they can give.
Everyone says he’s sincere, but everyone isn’t sincere. If everyone was sincere who says he’s sincere there wouldn’t be half so many insincere ones in the world and there would be lots, lots, lots more really sincere ones!
Perhaps the most vivid recollection of my youth is that of the local wheelmen, led by my father, stopping at our home to eat pone, sip mint juleps, and flog the field hands. This more than anything cultivated my life-long aversion to bicycles.