Alexander: Isn’t there something so much more romantic about getting hitched in a setting devoid of human touch — a place not shaped by anyone’s ideas and ideologies but your own? When you decide to let nature be your cathedral, your love becomes the architect.
Cecily: No! I want our relationship to be strong enough to blossom in reality — a reality shaped by previous architects and heavy expectations and other people’s disdain.
Cecily: You are wonderfully intelligent and kind and generous and wicked.
Arnaud: Thank you. That warms my cold heart.
Cecily: Your heart is not cold. You are simply delusional.
Arnaud: This afternoon, I will meet the girl in Bordeaux for whom my love is unrequited. She just told me that she is pregnant once again. I will binge-drink to celebrate it.
Cecily: In Paris, there is no such concept as “watercooler conversation”. It’s called a communal cigarette break. And it can happen up to thirty times a day. Note to self: spend salary on cigarettes, ergo, increase end of year bonus. Je fume, donc je suis.
Cecily: When I was poor in Paris, I couldn’t afford a Vogue magazine to feed me like Carrie Bradshaw. Instead, I took Übers.
Christopher: I do not know the word to which you refer, however, I did go to Oxford.
Alexander: Once I came to accept the meaningless nature of existence, it was much easier to take pleasure in simple things. Now I’m content to see everything as my inside joke and watch the world burn from the comfort of the Pacific Northwestern Void that is Portland.
Alexander: One more love disappointment and I’m buying a miniature schnauzer, naming it Machiavelli, and calling it a day on dating.
Cecily: When I left Sydney, I was escaping an imagined hardship.
Cecily: Just one day, I want to be on the train to Inverness and catch a man’s eye. We’d fall easily into a Lady Macbeth and Macbeth kind of love.
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