Pregled posta

We were in the open concourse where the turnstiles were. It was hardly any better here -- the enclosed space sent the voices around us echoing back in a roar that made my head ring, and the smell and feeling of all those bodies made me feel a claustrophob

For the night was not impartial. No, the night loved some more than others, served some more than others.
I was in total darkness now and I strained my ears to hear what was going on with my friends.
He attacked everything in life with a mix of extrordinary genius and naive incompetence, and it was often difficult to tell which was which.
Music is essentially useless, as life is.
Well done is better than well said.
Is love supposed to last throughout all time, or is it like trains changing at random stops. If I loved her, how could I leave her? If I felt that way then, how come I don't feel anything now?
The movies are the only business where you can go out front and applaud yourself.