Why Can’t You Just Love Me? Why

I Suppose The Important Thing Is To Make Some Sort Of Difference.

If You're My Friend I Should Be Able To Talk To You But I Can't, And If I Can't Talk To You, Well, What Is The Point Of You? Of Us?

And Then She Frowned, And Shook Her Head, Then Put Her Arms Around Him Once More, Pressing Her Face Into His Shoulder, Making A Noise That Sounded Almost Like Rage. 'what's Up?' He Asked. 'nothing. Oh, Nothing. Just...' She Looked Up At Him. 'i Thought I'd Finally Got Rid Of You.' 'i Don't Think You Can.' He Said

No, Friends Were Like Clothes: Fine While They Lasted But Eventually They Wore Thin Or You Grew Out Of Them.

[he] Didn’t Like To Think Of Himself As Vain, But There Were Definitely Times When He Wished There Was Someone On Hand To Take His Photograph.