She had only one flaw. She was perfect, otherwise she was perfect. - Truman Capote

you got to want it to be good, and I don't want it.

You don't run out on people; you run out on yourself.

You know those days when you've got the means reds?’
‘Same as the blues?’
‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘No, the blues are because you’re getting fat or maybe it’s been raining too long. You’re sad that’s all. But the mean reds are horrible. You’re afraid, and you sweat like hell, but you don’t know what you’re afraid of. Except something bad is going to happen, only you don’t know what it is. You’ve had that feeling?’
‘Quite often. Some people call it angst.’
‘All right. Angst. But what do you do about it?’
‘Well, a drink helps.’
‘I’ve tried that. I’ve tried aspirin, too. Rusty thinks I should smoke marijuana, and I did for a while, but it only makes me giggle. What I’ve found does the most good is to just get into a taxi and go to Tiffany’s. It calms me down right away, the quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there, not with those kind men in their nice suits, and that lovely smell of silver and alligator wallets. If I could find a real-life place that made me feel like Tiffany’s, then I’d buy some furniture and give the cat a name.