“This wallpaper is killing me. One of us has to go.” — Oscar Wilde’s tomb
and it’s nice enough
to make a man
weep, but I don’t
weep, do you
(via letterstodeadpeople)
‘Listen, Jake,’ he leaned forward on the bar. ‘Don’t you ever get the feeling that all your life is going by and you’re not taking advantage of it? Do you realize you’ve lived nearly half the time you have to live already?’
‘Yes, every once in a while.’
‘Do you know that in about thirty-five years more we’ll be dead?’
‘What the hell, Robert,’ I said. ‘What the hell.’
Gloria Vanderbilt and Truman Capote, 1960s
Death of a Salesman
Happy: So how’s it coming, Stanley?
Stanley: Ah, it’s a dog’s life. I only wish during the war they’d a took me in the Army. I coulda been dead by now.
Death of a Salesman
WILLY [after a pause, withering]: I can’t understand it. He’s going back to Texas again. What the hell is that?
CHARLEY: Let him go.
WILLY: I got nothin’ to give him, Charley, I’m clean, I’m clean.
CHARLEY: He won’t starve. None of them starve. Forget about him.
WILLY: Then what have I got to remember?
