I said I had the tree. It wasn’t true.
The opposite was true. The tree had me.
The minute it was left with me alone,
It caught me up as if I were the fish
And it the fishpole.
—Robert Frost (1874–1963)
Listen, my friend, there are two races of beings. The masses teeming and happy—common clay, if you like—eating, breeding, working, counting their pennies; people who just live; ordinary people; people you can’t imagine dead. And then there are the others—the noble ones, the heroes. The ones you can quite well imagine lying shot, pale and tragic; one minute triumphant with a guard of honor, and the next being marched away between two gendarmes.
—Jean Anouilh (1910–1987)
Grusinskaya: You must go now.
The Baron: I’m not going. You know I’m not going. Oh, please let me stay.
Grusinskaya: But I want to be alone.
The Baron: That isn’t true. You don’t want to be alone. You were in despair just now. I can’t leave you now. You mustn’t cry anymore. You must forget. Let me stay for just a little while. Ahh, please let me stay.
Grusinskaya: For just a minute then.
—William A. Drake (1900–1965)