"Another thing, I’ve thrown away my horoscopes. I must have spent a dollar on every goddamn star in the goddamn planetarium. It’s a bore, but the answer is good things only happen to you if you’re good. Good? Honest is more what I mean. Not law-type honest — I’d rob a grave, I’d steal two-bits off a dead man’s eyes if I thought it would contribute to the day’s enjoyment — but unto-thyself-type honest. Be anything but a coward, a pretender, an emotional crook, a whore: I’d rather have cancer than a dishonest heart. Which isn’t being pious. Just practical. Cancer may cool you, but the other’s sure to. Oh, screw it, cookie — hand me my guitar and I’ll sing you a fado in the most perfect Portugese."

– Holly Golightly

"Holly lifted her martini. “Let’s wish the Doc luck, too,” she said, touching her glass against mine. “Good luck: and believe me, dearest Doc—-it’s better to look at the sky than live there. Such an empty place; so vague. Just a country where the thunder goes and things disappear."

– Holly Golightly