The people are gone. And the lions are gone.
The moon is made of paper. It lights in vain.
My dear. With all due respect, you don't really understand farming, do you?
Women drink an awful lot more than you think they do.
You’re not to go round playing bang-bang games with guns after I've gone.
She signed herself, 'Seagull'.
...just write something from your fucking heart. For once in your sorry, shitty life.
Whatcha think? Do I look like a fifth avenue bird?
You think this is gonna make you happy when half a dozen girls waltz away in camisoles of your making?
Can you believe? And when everyone gone, 'e pass me this damn note like it money.