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Cowboy: [about long distance calls] I'm glad I don't have to pay the bill!
Michael: Quiet!
Harold: Oh, don't worry, Michael won't pay it either.
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Michael: Oh Harold, he's beautiful.
Harold: Yeah, beautiful. He has unnatural, natural beauty. Not that that means anything.
Michael: It doesn't mean everything.
Harold: Keep telling yourself that, as your hair drops out in handfuls.
Michael: Faggots are worse than women about their age. They think their lives are over at thirty. Physical beauty is not all that goddamn important.
Harold: Course not. How could it be? It's only in the eye of the beholder.
Michael: And it's only skin deep.
Harold: Only skin deep. It's transitory, too. It's terribly transitory. Oh yes. It's too bad about this poor boy's face. It's tragic. He's absolutely cursed. How could his beauty ever compare with my soul? And although I've never seen my soul, I understand from my mother's Rabbi that it's a knock-out. I, however, cannot seem to locate it for a gander. And if I could, I'd sell it in a flash, for some skin-deep, transitory, meaningless beauty.
Reuben Greene
Extended Reading
