The Edge of Love

Dylan Thomas: Not for the proud man apart from the raging moon I write on the spendthrift pages, nor for the towering dead with their nightingales and psalms, but for the lovers, their arms round the griefs of the ages.

Dylan Thomas: Where's our son?
Caitlin MacNamara: Chopped up in little bids and packed with my knickers in the suitcase.
Dylan Thomas: Oh, dear, the police'll be chasing you.

William Killick: Live while you can, live all you can.

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