One Of The Injustices Of The World

And If Things Always Stayed The Same, Scarlett, What Would Be The Reason For Bothering To Draw Breath?

But You Know Who You Are When You're On Your Own Out There In All That Emptiness. There's No Past, No Holding On To The Scraps That Are All You've Got Left. Everything Is That Minute, Or Maybe Tomorrow, Not Yesterday.

You Belong With Me, Scarlett, Haven't You Figured That Out? And The World Is Where We Belong, All Of It. We're Not Home-and-hearth People. We're The Adventurers, The Buccaneers, The Blockade Runners. Without Challenge, We're Only Half Alive. We Can Go Anywhere, And As Long As We're Together, It Will Belong To Us. But, My Pet, We'll Never Belong To It. That's For Other People, Not For Us.

Books Have Become Products, Like Cereal Or Perfume Or Deodorant.

To Anyone With A Drop Of Irish Blood In Them The Land They Live On Is Like Their Mother. It's The Only Thing That Lasts, That's Worth Working For, For Fighting For