“How I love - writing, acting, breathing the atmosphere- and one day I'll have it. If I cannot write, I shall die.”

“We are living now. We shall not live long. No one should tell us we shall live again. This is our little while. This is our chance.”

“Manhattan was kaleidoscopic. Cubist. Just when she was feeling one way, the seasons changed, and so did she.”

“Florence has a passion for books. When she saw the one she was seeking, she would recognize it, as if the volume had belonged to her in a previous life.”

“-Can we have one day when we don't have to talk about the meaning of life?-I don't think we ever talk about anything else.”

“My friends tell me I am strong, decisive, and wise. What a joke. Where is my strength tonight? Where is my wisdom? Ironically, they tell me I am ‘so open’. Me, who has so many secrets that I have never shared. The irony would be funny if it wasn't so sad. Their blindness to my true self makes me feel invisible. Not in the way that a spirit or ghost is invisible, for I am most definitely flesh, blood, sinew, and bone. I even have a mind that works nimble and fast, and a mouth that speaks reasonably eloquently, when I feel I have something worthwhile to say. No, I’m invisible because the people who populate my life either do not, or cannot, see the real me. Of course, that is but another irony. I know much of my invisibility is of my own doing, and that is the last joke on myself: that which I seek is also that which I fear.”

“I always wanted to be something, but now I see I should have been more specific.”