The drunk in the cells tried to yodel, but his voice cracked and that discouraged him. He began to cry.

His expression, his manner, his very soul seemed to vary with every fresh part that he assumed. The stage lost a fine actor, even as science lost an acute reasoner, when he became a specialist in crime.

To Sherlock Holmes she is always the woman. I have seldom heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex.

I would always love Alaska Young, my crooked neighbour, with all my crooked heart.

So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane.

The pastor is saying something about how Charlie was a free spirit. He was and he wasn't. He was free because on the inside he was tied up in knots. He lived hard because inside he was dying. Charlie made inner conflict look delicious.

"Listen, my darling, if you're going to be religious, you must be either a Hindu, a Christian or a Muslim. You heard what they said on the esplanade."
"I don't see why I can't be all three, Mamaji has two passports. He's Indian and French. Why can't I be a Hindu, a Christian and a Muslim?"
"That's different. France and India are nations on earth."
"How many nations are there in the sky?"

I couldn't bear to have yet another French speaker guffawing at my name, so when the man on the phone asked, "Can I 'ave your name?" I said, "I am who I am." Half an hour later two pizzas arrived for "Ian Hoolihan."

Still, it must be hell, to be a man, like that.
It must be just fine.
It must be hell.
It must be very silent.

The last, I think; for, O my poor old Harry Jekyll, if ever I read Satan's signature upon a face, it is on that of your new friend.

"If he be Mr. Hyde," he had thought, "I shall be Mr. Seek."

"But that is how writers feel. Their work is their brainchild. This is your brainchild; you are the only one in the whole world who could have produced that particular work, no one else could. If they tried it would just be an imitation. Books tell a great deal about the writers. It is like your own particular child."

"Charlie, we accept the love we think we deserve."

Though it's commonly assumed his last word was "care" or the start of "careful." I would argue differently. I believe his utterance is really just the first syllable of the very name on which his mind and heart had finally come to a rest. His only hope, his only meaning: "Karen."

I saw no cause for their unappiness; but I was deeply affected by it. If such lovely creatures were miserable, it was less strange that I, an imperfect and solitary being, should be wretched.

Not only had Navidson carried Karen out of that house, he had picked her up a hundred times over the course of eleven years and carried her fear, her torment and her distance.

I took my morning walk, I took my evening walk, I ate something, I thought about something, I wrote something, I napped and dreamt something too, and with all that something, I still have nothing because so much of sum'things has always been and always will be you.

I miss you.

This is not for you

I loved him so and wished that I had a mother to give him, for, no matter how much my own mother loved him, it could never be the same.

Here us is, I thought, two old fools left over from love, keeping each other company under the stars.