“I'd never yell, "Good luck!" at anybody. It sounds terrible, when you think about it.”

“After I shut the door and stared back to the living room, he yelled something at me, but I couldn't exactly hear him. I'm pretty sure he yelled 'Good luck!' at me. I hope not. I hope to hell not. I'd never yell 'Good luck' at anybody. It sounds terrible, when you think about it.”

“Don't tell people what you are thinking, or you will miss them terribly when you are away.”

“Well. He's a very sensitive boy. He's really never been a terribly good mixer with other boys...'Sensitive. That killed me. That guy Morrow was about as sensitive as a goddamn toilet seat.”

“Undoubtedly, though, what I'm really getting at is this: Since the bridegroom's permanent retirement from the scene, I haven't been able to think of anybody whom I'd care to send out to look for horses in his stead.”

“If you want to know the truth, I don't know what I think about it. I'm sorry I told so many people about it. About all I know is, I sort of miss everybody I told about.[...] It's funny. Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.”

“Never wants to what?”Meet anybody for a drink. Oh, he had to go out last night and meet this television writer for a drink downtown, in the Village and all. That’s what started it. He says the only people he ever really wants to meet for a drink somewhere are all either dead or unavailable. He says he never even wants to have lunch with anybody, even, unless he thinks there’s a good chance it’s going to turn out to be Jesus, the person – or the Buddha, or Hui-neng, or Shankaracharya, or somebody like that. You know.”