“You know what is wrong with you, Miss who-ever-you-are? You are a chicken. You have no guts. You are afraid to stick out your chin and say, “Okay, life is a fact.”

People do fall in love. People do belong to each other because that’s the only chance anybody’s got real happiness.

You call yourself a free spirit, a wild thing, and you are terrified somebody is going to stick you in a cage. Well, baby, you are already in that cage. You built it yourself.

And it is not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas or in the east by Somaliland. It is wherever you go.

Because no matter where you run. You just end up running into yourself.”

Blake Edwards, Breakfast at Tiffany’s 1961