Living for beauty is all very fine, but it’s a hard regimen and burns up the heart very quickly.
You know, we queens loathed rain at the beach, small cocks, and reality, I think. In that order.
Dreams are all equipped with revolving doors: Someone is always walking into the one you are leaving, and vice-versa.
For you cannot live in New York City very long and not be conscious of the niceties of being rich - the city is, after all, an ecstatic exercise in merchandising - and one evening of his visit to Venezuela Sutherland sat straight up when he read a line of Santayana’s: “Money is the petrol of life.