“She told me about the cop. And the movie star, and the construction worker. You're not having a life Michael, you're fucking the Village People one at a time”

“What about San Francisco?""What about it?""Did you like it?"She shrugged. "It was O.K.""Just O.K.?"She laughed. "Good God!""What?""You're all alike here.""How so?" he asked."You demand adoration for the place. You're not happy until everybody swears undying love for every nook and cranny of every precious damn --""Whoa, missy.""Well, it's true. Can't you just worship it on your own? Do I have to sign an affadavit?"He chuckled. "We're that bad, are we?""You bet your ass you are.”

“Hey, you look at your tits; I'll look at mine! (Michael Tolliver, Tales of the City)”

“Mona knocked at the wrong time.“Uh…yeah…wait a minute, Mona -- ”Mona shouted through the door. “Room service, gentlemen. Just pull the covers up.”Michael grinned at Jon. “My roommate. Brace yourself.”Seconds later, Mona burst through the doorway with a tray of coffee and croissants.“Hi! I’m Nancy Drew! You must be the Hardy Boys!”

“Oh, Mona, we're all damned fools! Some of us just have more fun with it than others. Loosen up, dear! Don't be so afraid to cry . . . or laugh, for that matter. Laugh all you want and cry all you want and whistle at pretty men in the street and to hell with anybody who thinks you're a damned fool!”

“Thack seemed to sort something out for a moment. “Sometimes I watch him when he’s playing with Harry or digging in the yard. And I think: This is it, this is the guy I’ve waited for all my life. Then this other voice tells me not to get used to it, that it’ll only hurt more later. It’s funny. You’re feeling this enormous good fortune and waiting for it to be over at the same time.”“You seem happy,” Brian ventured.“I am.”“Well … that’s a lot. I envy you that.”Thack shrugged. “All we’ve got is now, I guess. But that’s all anybody gets. If we wasted that time being scared …”“Absolutely.”

“Down the Peninsula at Cypress Lawn Cemetery, a woman in a paisley turban climbed out of a battered automobile and trudged up the hillside to a new grave.She stood there for a moment, humming to herself, then removed a joint from a tortoise-shell cigarette case and laid it gently on the grave."Have fun," she smiled. "It's Colombian.”