I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.
I don’t want realism. I want magic!
Whoever you are, I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.
I can’t stand a naked light bulb, any more than I can a rude remark or a vulgar action.
I don’t want realism. I want magic! Yes, yes, magic! I try to give that to people. I do misrepresent things. I don’t tell truth, I tell what ought to be truth.
I don’t tell the truth. I tell what ought to be the truth.
I can’t stand a naked light bulb.
Don’t- don’t hang back with the brutes!
I’m always dependent on the kindness of strangers.
Deliberate cruelty is not forgivable. It is the one unforgivable thing in my opinion and it is the one thing of which I have never, never been guilty.
I’m always dependent on the kindness of strangers.
Human kindness has never weakened the stamina or softened the fiber of a free people.
People don’t always mean to do it. They do it without thinking.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Sometimes— there’s God — so quickly!
Do me a favour — Blanche. Don’t continue to… it makes me so nervous, Jay, please!
There isn’t a goddamned thing but imagination!
Stell-lahhh! Hey, Stell-lahhh! Hey, Stella!
Haven’t you ever ridden on that streetcar?
You are the only young man that I know of who ignores the fact that the world exists outside of New Orleans.
There’s a light-bulb burning!
I was getting along nicely—and then she showed here.
I can’t stand a naked light bulb, any more than I can a rude remark or a vulgar action.
Cattle—cattle are dying like flies back in the pasturelands.
What you are talking about is brutal desire—just—Desire!— the name of that rattle-trap street-car that bangs through the Quarter, up one old narrow street and down another.
Flores para los muertos! [She snatches a bunch of roses and tosses them to the floor.]
You didn’t pull the wool over this boy’s eyes! But you made a fool of yourself.
I never told you because I knew how you would react!
Graveside scene comin’ up!
Cemeteries are different in the South.
They’re quiet, like sleepy birds, nodding in the arms of the hills.
This— can never happen again. Do you understand? I mean never! Never! Nеver! Never!
Once upon a time there was a land of Cavaliers and Cotton Fields.
Orchards of bright golden fruit!
Where streetcars ran and big yellow … serpents… moved with undulating muscularity, but something—something has happened to the slow and steady pace of the old days. Something pretty wild that makes the trolleys have to be different from other trolleys!
New Orleans isn’t like other cities, she says.
I’m ready to answer all questions. Leave nothing out.
I’ll meat you in the hotel court at six. Yes?
I’ve got to be good and keep my hands off children because—oh—it would be dreadful, old thing!
Narcotized by your thousand sleepless nights.
Love you with all my heart and so forth, ha-ha!
You’re not clean enough to bring in the house with my mother.
I can almost smell the bay.
I don’t like to be outside in the dark!
Look at these feathers and furbelows! Who do you think I am?
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