All the world's a cage.
Curiosity killed the cat, but for a while I was a suspect.
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 claustrophobia I'd never known I was prone to.
Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome.
I despise the pleasure of pleasing people that I despise.
The strongest possible piece of advice I would give any young woman is: Don't screw around, and don't smoke.
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.