Breakfast at Tiffany’s?

I always remember this:

“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.”

Is there any river in the moon? I don’t know, but I remember one day I dance with Mancini’s music on the carpet.

You know what’s wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are?
You’re chicken.
You got no guts.
You’re afraid to say “O.K. life’s a fact”
People do fall in love
People do belong to each other, because that’s the only chance anybody’s got for real happiness
You call yourself a free spirit, a wild thing.
You’re terrified somebody’s going to stick you in a cage.
Well, baby, you’re already in that cage.
You built it yourself.
And it’s not bounded by Tulip, Texas or Somaliland.
It’s wherever you go.
Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.