That was for me.

This isn't mine. What?

This one Is mine, huh?

But it is. You can't shut me out.

This story not only concerns me.

In fact, I had visions of my own.

And I was suddenly a post modernist, and I began a career as in my own business.

That's not fair.

No, not without my fortune. It's mine, and my mother's before me...

You can take your sister back. It's your custom, not mine.

It contains clothes of mine for the cleaners.

And you have to say, Mama, humanity is my business.

Mind your own business. And you have to say, Mama, humanity is my business.

There's 300 years of happy dreaming in those things of mine, and...

I don't expect you to believe anything, except that the responsibility is mine, and the disgrace.

But that's when I take out his letters and I read them, and the paper that touched his hand is in mine, and I feel connected to him.

Conceptions only proper to myself, which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviors, but let not therefore my good friends be grieved, among which number, Cassius, be you one.

I'll not have me own daughter telling me what I shall jump and not jump.