Cecily: Regret is perhaps the mark of an interesting life. I wear my regrets as I wear my gloves, not often, but always on hand.
Observations
Cecily, on spiritual doppelgängers.
Cecily: They are singing opera and playing the piano next door, and I wonder if I am living next door to myself.
Cecily, on hiding.
Cecily: I hide in my history, and even in my present. And the future has many hiding places too. It’s not a bad thing. In the darkness, I find my dreams.
Cecily and Ishmaël, on marriage.
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, on Paris.
Cecily: The streets are romantic, and filled with lovers who don’t even know each other.
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