Cecily: I’m hungry all the time. I don’t know why. I want a big bowl of pasta.
Charles: Please don’t be with child. Movies end with marriage and childbirth because nothing happens thereafter.
film
Delilah, on New Year’s Eve.
Delilah: How did you celebrate this castratingly realisational passage of pointless measurement of arbitrary parameters? Did you have a snog and a whisky? Or a cabaret and a spliff? Or, dare I say it, a bottle episode?
Cecily: Bottle episode. Setting: my house. Cast: every Tinder date I’ve met over the past year. Food: fromage. Ending: catastrophic, as preordained.
Two creatives, on writing.
Xavier: I’m writing a play and I don’t like it yet.
Cecily: I’m writing a life, and I’m starting to dread the next plot twist.
Delilah, on essays.
Delilah: I have fun sometimes writing essays. It’s a gamble. Some of them pay off big time. I get some really passionate academic fans. But every once in a while, my sweary critic-despising style deeply offends someone. That someone is always a woman.
thedailymails 