NO. PEOPLE DON’T BELONG TO PEOPLE.”
“OF COURSE THEY DO.”
“NOBODY’S GOING TO PUT ME IN A CAGE.”
“I WANT TO LOVE YOU.”
“IT’S THE SAME THING.”
“NO, IT’S NOT! HOLLY!”
“I’M NOT HOLLY. I’M NOT LULA MAE, EITHER. I DON’T KNOW WHO I AM! I’M LIKE CAT HERE, A NO-NAME SLOB. WE BELONG TO NOBODY, AND NOBODY BELONGS TO US. WE DON’T EVEN BELONG TO EACH OTHER.
— Holly Golightly & Paul Varjak
On est tous des artistes, quand on peint des sourires sur la bouche des autres, quand on écrit dans le vent des mots d’espoir, quand on sculpte avec nos actions un meilleur demain et quand on dessine le portrait de la personne qu’on veut être.
— Gioco
Never love a wild thing, Mr. Bell,” Holly advised him. “That was Doc’s mistake. He was always lugging home wild things. A hawk with a hurt wing. One time it was a full-grown bobcat with a broken leg. But you can’t give your heart to a wild thing: the more you do, the stronger they get. Until they’re strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky. That’s how you’ll end up, Mr. Bell. If you let yourself love a wild thing. You’ll end up looking at the sky.
— Truman Capote, “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”
