“The world’s all full of thoughts about wars and space, and tragedies to the world. That’s what writers are thinking about because that’s what the world is thinking about.”

Everybody has a heart. Except some people.

If everybody likes you, you are not a very interesting person.

You’ve got to know someone pretty well to hate them.

Good actors I’ve worked with all started out making faces in a mirror, and you keep making faces all your life.

I’ve always liked men better than women.

You should never say bad things about the dead, you should only say good, Joan Crawford is dead. Good.

Pleasure of love lasts but a moment, Pain of love lasts a lifetime.

There are new words now that excuse everybody. Give me the good old days of heroes and villains, the people you can bravo or hiss. There was a truth to them that all the slick credulity of today cannot touch.

I was thought to be ‘stuck up.’ I wasn’t. I was just sure of myself. This is and always has been an unforgivable quality to the unsure.

At 50, I thought proudly: Here we are, half century! Being 60 was fairly frightening. You want to know how I spent my 70th birthday? I put on a completely black face, a fuzzy black Afro wig, wore black clothes and hung a black wreath on my door.

Fasten your seat belts, it’s going to be a bumpy night! – As Margo Channing in All About Eve

I work to stay alive.

I was never very interested in boys – and there were plenty of them – vying with one another to see how many famous women they would get into the hay.

Success is built on disappointment, and disappointment is inherent in all success.

The act of sex, gratifying as it may be, is God’s joke on humanity. It is man’s last desperate stand at superintendency.

It’s true we don’t know what we’ve got until its gone, but we don’t know what we’ve been missing until it arrives. Pleasure of love lasts but a moment, Pain of love lasts a lifetime.

I see the pain you hide inside you, those shadows that haunt your eyes, let tears of liquid darkness flow until space is made for light.

You can be the milky way and I’ll be your andromeda.

You are my world and I am a lone planet forever just outside your orbit.

We’re the mirror of the cosmos, where stars collapse, born, and fade in unison.

With one look into your eyes, you take me dancing in galaxies and among the stars.

A narrative told in the infinite galaxy of colors that melt into white and, brushstrokes bourne upon land who are titled ‘human beings’.

Silence speaks too many judgments. Sometimes, it echoes more than a scream can crumble space up.

I am suffocating in the vacancy of the overflowing space, can you feel me reaching out?