#vilspo

Your machinery is too much for me. You make me want to be a saint.

Well, handsome Jenny mine, sit up, I've filled our glasses, let us sup, And do not let me think of you, Lest shame of yours suffice for two.

BRACK: ... If this—utterly superfluous—and intrusive individual—were to force himself into— HEDDA: Into the triangle? BRACK: Precisely! It would leave me without a home. HEDDA [Looks smilingly at him.] I see—The one cock of the walk—That's your goal. BRACK [Slowly nodding and dropping his voice]: Yes, that's my goal. And it's a goal that I'll fight for—with every means at my disposal. HEDDA [Her smile fading]: You're really a dangerous man, aren't you—when push coms to shove. ... And that's all right—just as long as you don't have any kind of hold on me.

I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel?

You can think of Lazarus as an example of resurrection or as a person who had to die twice. An historian will take the latter view. I don't know how Lazarus saw it.

'To be nothing - is that not, after all, the most satisfactory fact in the whole world?' asks a dog in a novel I read once ... . I wonder what the smell of nothing is. Smell of autopsy.

The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing / Alive enough to have strength to die

the way it was in Hackensack was different there one never did anything and everyone hated you anyway it was fun, it was clear you knew where you stood