The Signature Thing

I distrust people who can be intense at this hour in the morning. It’s a mild form of insanity. Morning’s the time to sleep, swim, and be careless.

I like people and I like them to like me, but I wear my heart where God put it, on the inside.

It was three years before we saw New York again. As the ship glided up the river, the city burst thunderously upon us in the early dusk — the white glacier of lower New York swooping down like a strand of a bridge to rise into uptown New York, a miracle of foamy light suspended by the stars. A band started to play on deck, but the majesty of the city made the march trivial and tinkling. From that moment I knew that New York, however often I might leave it, was home.

I don’t ask you to love me always like this,
but i ask you to remember.
Somewhere lost inside me
there’ll always be the person
I am tonight.

I don’t want to repeat my innocence. I want the pleasure of losing it again

In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars.