Cecily: Arise fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale under fucking rain clouds.
Literature
Inès, on Tatiana.
Inès: You just have to meet Tatiana. She’s the kind of girl that wherever she goes, she has a birdbath full of blow.
Two friends, on art.
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, on writing.
Cecily: I want to write postcards, not extended literature!
Alexander, on stock characters.
Alexander: I have realised recently that the vast majority of people one meets are simply stock characters in the grand scheme of life’s narrative. The only people worth holding on to are other “writers”. Nearly all of the people with whom I consort are plot devices, nothing more. So now I’m bingeing on Häagen-Dazs, drinking The Botanist out of the bottle, and watching Bridget Jones’ Diary.
Alexander, on himself.
Alexander: I am watching Annie Hall and just realised the book on which I rolled a joint is Still Life with Woodpecker. I have fallen so deeply into my own stereotype that it’s no longer funny.
Two friends, on perspective.
Arnaud: From my bus I can see Catherine Deneuve’s flat.
Cecily: From my bookstore I can see Dante’s Inferno.
Alexander, on old authors.
Alexander: I keep reexamining the words of old authors I love in the hope of finding some semblance of clarity and comfort in their familiarity; yet it’s all for naught, and my ongoing stare-down with the Void has become more treacherous than ever.
Two friends, on codices.
Xavier: I love the word “codex”.
Cecily: Me too. It’s so “Davinci”.
Two friends, on fans.
Cecily: You have an increasing fanbase. People enjoy Charles’ romantic cynicism.
Charles: I’m blushing… If that was the sort of thing I’d do…which as you know, I don’t.
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