Cecily: The bliss of a designer shoe on my foot awakens me. Shoe swamis, thrill me, fill me with important inspiration never felt before! And I, I will be rich, and you, you’ll drink all the time. And nothing can keep us apart, as long as even one department store still exists in this luxurious, leather-trimmed world.

Cecily: Every time I have a conversation with our mother she mentions “apophatic knowing”. She has built her personality of the last ten years on academic valor, the ten before that on her children and the ten before that on finding a husband. I hope she has an affair soon. I can deal with sex. I cannot deal with another conversation about theological ontology.

Cecily: Be like kohlrabi, my sweeties, and be awakened through the catharsis of peeling, peeling away. Let your purples flourish, let your greens amplify your great energy. Within this, you will find your organic purpose.

Jaël: The night is still young.

Cecily: The night should be older.

Aunt Sarita: Are you into fashion?

Delilah: No, unfortunately my narcissism isn’t marketable.

Delilah: Our generation is so far from literal. We’re barely even alive.

Cecily: There is something so delightful about the word ‘clandestine’. Please do not allow me to abuse it.

Cecily: Airline food will kill you. It’s death in a tiny, white styrofoam box. It’s kind of interesting that death comes that way. I always expected it to be huge and black and grim reaper-y. It’s more prim than that, this death with a fork instead of a scythe.

Cecily: He does not love me.

Carlo: Who is he? It is he who I admire.

Carlo: Violetta was a tragedy because she loved.

Cecily: And I am a tragedy because I am waiting for it.

Carlo: You sell cheap poetry.