Stanley Crawford

I can't forgive you, only God can forgive you.

When the heart rules the head, disaster follows.

You're born, you commit no crime, and then you're sentenced to death.

All my optimism was an illusion.

I came to say that for some inexplicable reason that defies common sense and human understanding, that I have, of late, experienced some small... quite small but discernible, inner stirrings regarding your smile.

I have irrational positive feelings for Sophie Baker.

The comparison makes me laugh! Olivia is a person of accomplishment and charm. Sophie's a street finagler who makes her way living off one bit of hokum to the next.

Of course, she does come from dire circumstances. I mean, it's very easy to be judgmental about people who are born into circumstances less fortunate than one's own.

Well put. And people do sometimes make the wrong choices, which they regret, even though no serious harm was done.

I came to say, that for some inexplicable reason that defines common sense and human understanding, that I have of late experienced some small... quite small, but discernible, inner stirrings regarding your smile.

And possessing a soul which is large and capable of complexity, as all great minds are, I have decided to forgive you and take you under my wing.

It's a saying. Obviously, I don't have wings. I only mean that, incredible as it sounds, and this is no small gesture, given the time wasted and the public embarrassment you've caused me, that I'm willing to take you back.

Live dangerously, I say. You only live once. Or maybe two or three times, depending on your supply of ectoplasm.

Happiness is not the natural human condition.

We all hope someone will come along with superpowers, but the only superpower certain to show up wears a black robe.

As depressing as the facts of existence are, they are the facts. There is no metaphysical world. What you see out there is what you get. I think Mr. Nietzsche has disposed of the God matter rather convincingly.

y aunt, whom I love, is in mortal danger. And so, I ask you… I ask you… Wait a minute. This is the stupidest load of twaddle I have ever heard.

There is no 'real thing', Howard! It's all phony! From the séance table to the Vatican and beyond!

I don't understand. Is the conductor a blithering idiot? He went over the tempo six times. It's Adagio, Adagio, Adagio! It's not racehorse tempo.

I view your behavior as a great man views the malicious mischief of... what shall we say, pygmy?