Hand in my pocket

I'm broke but I'm happy

I'm poor but I'm kind

I'm short but I'm healthy, yeah

I'm high but I'm grounded

I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed

I'm lost but I'm hopeful baby

I feel drunk but I'm sober

I'm young and I'm underpaid

I'm tired but I'm working, yeah

I care but I'm restless

I'm here but I'm really gone

I'm wrong and I'm sorry baby

I'm free but I'm focused

I'm green but I'm wise

I'm hard but I'm friendly baby

I'm sad but I'm laughing

I'm brave but I'm chickenshit

I'm sick but I'm pretty baby

And what it all comes down to my friends

Is that everything's just fine fine fine

'cause I've got one hand in my pocket

And the other one...

Obsession

"Why do you become obsessed with people you don't really like that much, you know, I mean…"

Celine in Before sunrise

The independent icon of womanhood

"I always feel this pressure of being a strong and independent icon of womanhood, and without making it look my whole life is revolving around some guy. But loving someone, and being loved means so much to me. We always make fun of it and stuff. But isn't everything we do in life a way to be loved a little more?"

Celine, in Before Sunrise.

So, good night dear void.

"Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life. Well, not small, but valuable. And sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around? I don't really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void"

Kathleen Kelly in You've got mail

I wish...

"I wish you could know

What it means to be me"

Je suis Mlle. Poulain

- Vous croyez aux miracles mademoiselle?
- Pas aujourd'hui, non.

("Le fabuleux destin d’Amélie Poulain")

O violoncelista

"Aprende, pensava, aprende de uma vez, pedaço de estúpido, portaste-te como um perfeito imbecil, puseste os significados que desejavas em palavras que afinal de contas tinham outros sentidos, e mesmo esses não os conheces nem conhecerás, acredistaste em sorrisos que não passavam de meras deliberadas contracções musculares (...)"

As Intermitências da Morte, José Saramago