Cecily: I may still have to get married.
Ishmaël: You know I’ll run for it.
Cecily: Run from it is my suggestion.
Ishmaël: Why would you fill my heart with disillusion?
Cecily: The butterfly drinks its own nectar my dear. I fill it not. Drink only from lovely flowers, and you shall be saved from your disillusionment.
Ishmaël: What a poet thou art, Cecily Shelley Keats Tennyson.
Cecily: Egad! I already have too many last names to get married.
Cecily: Your art always has a peace to it. This seems at odds with your mental state at times.
Arnaud: My states of mind are the consequence of the gap between what I would like the world to be – peaceful, intelligent, etc. – and what it is in actuality.
Cecily: Yves went to inform his music teacher that he’s staying in Paris so he can be with me forever, instead of joining the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra.
Charles: You have a responsibility to the global art world. Just drug him and put him on the Eurostar.
Xavier: I love the word “codex”.
Cecily: Me too. It’s so “Davinci”.
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