Sundays At Tiffany's Quotes

This time I wouldn't forget him, because I couldn't ever forgive him - for breaking my heart twice.

But it's Sunday, Mr. Bell. Clocks are slow on Sundays.

Men suck, even imaginary ones

Just because life is hard, and always ends in a bad way, doesn't mean that all stories have to, even if that's what they tell us in school and in the New York Times Review. In fact, it's a good thing that stories are as different as we are, one from another.

Love means never having to be apart

Okay, okay, okay. I understood that pushing the elevator button over and over again would not make the elevator appear sooner. But I couldn't help myself

She had a lot of hugs to give, but not enough people to give them to.

People always remember the worst day of their lifes. It becomes a part of them forever.

Once I was seated, I couldn't help people-watching. I'll admit it, I'm an addict from way back.

Just because life is hard and always ends in a bad way doesn't mean that all stories have to. Even if that's what they tell us in school and the New York Book Review.

It was like meeting someone out of your dreams, or fantasies, or a beloved character from a favorite book.

and I think that everything in life is kind of unreal, isn't it?

Just because life is hard, and always ends in a bad way, doesn't mean that all stories have to

you'll see, jαne,' he promised her. 'you'll forget me, αnd it won't hurt tomorrow. besides, you sαid it yourself: love meαns you cαn never be αpαrt. so we'll never be αpαrt, jαne, becαuse i love you so much. i'll αlwαys, αlwαys love you.

Why do things this beautiful make me want to cry?" I asked Michael as I leaned into him. It was an unguarded question, one I'd never have asked of Hugh. "I don't know," said Michael. "Maybe beauty, true beauty, is so overwhelming, it goes straight to our hearts. Maybe it makes us feel emotions that are locked away inside.

maybe, beauty, true beauty, is so overwhelming, it goes straight to our hearts.maybe it makes us feel emotions that are locked away inside

So this is how "happy" feels, I thought. The energy, the automatic smile. This is what it's like to look forward to the day, to believe there could be good things coming.

Love takes chances, and I wanted to take a chance right now. For once in my life, I knew what I wanted.

But then we have to leave, have to. It's always been that way, and it will always be that way, Jane. That's just.. how it works

And then I'm thinking - is it so impossible to imagine or believe? - that a man and a woman can find happiness together for a little while, which afterall, is all that we have. All anyone has.

At that instant, I knew exactly what I wanted out of life: this. This feeling, this happiness, this embrace.

We are the visionaries, inventors, and artists. We think differently, see the world differently, and solve problems differently. It is from this difference that the dyslexic brain derives its brilliance.

But the address, if it ever existed, never was sent, which made me sad, there was so much I wanted to write her: that I'd sold two stories, had read where the Trawlers were countersuing for divorce, was moving out of the brownstone because it was haunted. But mostly, I wanted to tell about her cat. I had kept my promise; I had found him. It took weeks of after-work roaming through those Spanish Harlem streets, and there were many false alarms--flashes of tiger-striped fur that, upon inspection, were not him. But one day, one cold sunshiny Sunday winter afternoon, it was. Flanked by potted plants and framed by clean lace curtains, he was seated in the window of a warm-looking room: I wondered what his name was, for I was certain he had one now, certain he'd arrived somewhere he belonged. African hut or whatever, I hope Holly has, too.

He felt nervous and excited an happy and kind of filled with dread, all at the same time. It was the most emotion he'd never experienced...

If you are going to dream then dream big, why spend time dreaming small?

She says, this is Holly, I say honey, you sound far away, she says I'm in New York, I say what the hell are you doing in New York when it's Sunday and you got the test tomorrow? She says I'm in New York cause I've never been to New York.

I had kept my promise; I had found him. It took weeks of after-work roaming through those Spanish Harlem streets, and there were many false alarms—flashes of tiger-striped fur that, upon inspection, were not him. But one day, one cold sunshiny Sunday winter afternoon, it was. Flanked by potted plants and framed by clean lace curtains, he was seated in the window of a warm-looking room: I wondered what his name was, for I was certain he had one now, certain he’d arrived somewhere he belonged. African hut or whatever, I hope Holly has, too.

The secret of imaginary friends. Children have imaginary friends to help guide them into their lives. We help children feel less alone, help them find their place in the world, in their families. But then we have to leave, have to. It's always been that way, and it will always be that way, Jane. That's just... how it works.

Unlike Tiffany, the laughing woman is real. Whomever she's speaking to speaks back like they want to, and Tiffany envies her. She wonders if there's a word for the opposite of solipsism, wonders if such a term could accurately describe her psychological disorder. It's Sunday but it feels like Wednesday. It's spring but it feels like fall. It's warm but Tiffany shivers. She feels drunk.

The team is showing its appreciation to the host families by taking them to a water park on Sunday. I know Mac is going out of town, but I thought you might still want to go. I mean, not as a date or anything. I’m going to invite the whole family.” “You don’t have to work Sunday?” “I got scheduled off.” “Sounds like fun. We could pack a picnic lunch--” “I’ll take care of that. As my thank you. All you have to do is bring yourself.” “And a bathing suit.” He grinned. “Yeah, and a bathing suit.” “And a towel. And suntan lotion…” “Maybe it’d be simpler if I just said I’ll take care of the tickets and eats.” “Okay, but I’ll go ahead and warn you not to take it personally that Mom and Dad aren’t really into water parks. It’s that whole not-using-the-exercise-equipment-as-intended thing Dad has going.” His grin grew. “I won’t take it personally.” “Okay, then, Sunday.” As though suddenly realized how intimate it seemed to be in my bedroom, he cleared his throat and took a step back. He gave my room one more look and took another step back. “It’s amazing what a room can reveal.” Then he walked down the hallway and knocked on Tiffany’s door. I wondered what he’d discover looking into her room.

Well, how else to explain… all of this? Or me, of course? Or us? Snocones, Pokémon, the Simpsons, the justice system in America, iPods.

I watch him up on the screen as I hold his hand in the audience, and I think that everything in life is kind of unreal, isn’t it? And then I'm thinking - is it so impossible to imagine or believe? - that a man and a woman can find happiness together for a little while, which, after all, is all that we have. All anyone has. I think it can happen.

We turned left, walked through a large wooden doorway, and then we were standing in one of the most beautiful rooms in the world. Enormous canvases of Monet’s water lilies covered the walls, surrounding us, taking us to a different world. “Why do things this beautiful make me want to cry?" I asked Michael as I leaned into him. It was an unguarded question, one I'd never have asked of Hugh. "I don't know," said Michael. "Maybe beauty, true beauty, is so overwhelming, it goes straight to our hearts. Maybe it makes us feel emotions that are locked away inside.

Maybe my goals were too long-term. Maybe I should figure out a way to be happy, not for a lifetime, but for an hour or two.

What we create online becomes part of our digital DNA, this in turns becomes part of our human DNA.

With each tweet, post, share and comment, we are building and adding to our digital iceberg.

What exactly were the duties of an imaginary friend? Pretty much just to make it easier for the child to fit into the world without feeling too alone or scared. Hours? Whatever it took. Benefits? The incredibly pure love between a kid and an imaginary friend. It didn’t get better than that. Where did he fit in the great cosmic plan? Well, no one had ever told him.

So, let me get this right...the big whoop about being human is that you get to die?

It smelled like heaven, like love, like home and family and Sunday mornings at her grandparents' house. It smelled like...Bacon.

Just because life is hard, and always ends in a bad way, doesn’t mean that all stories have to, even if that’s what they tell us in school and in the New York Times Book Review. In fact, it’s a good thing that stories are as different as we are, one from another.

But love takes chances, and I wanted to take a chance right now. For once in my life, I knew what I wanted.

Love means you can never be apart.

I miss you already.