Cecily: I have no sheep in my apartment.
Charles: Where do you get your wool from? How do you stay warm in the winter?
Cecily: Harrods’ cashmere.
Charles: But do your blankets and throws offer you unconditional love and, more importantly, loyalty?
Cecily: No, but my Italian greyhound does.
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.
Charles: Paris has given me an unshakeable malaise.
Cecily: You need a tasting flight and some fromage, tout de suite.
Delilah: According to my tutors, I’m a master of hermeneutically self-referential, overly encoded language.
Charles: I bought my 2016 Moleskine today. Not sure if you use one.
Cecily: Let’s have lunch tomorrow.
Arnaud: Let me find the perfect place!
Cecily: You are hereby delegated the task, lowly subject.
Arnaud: The Empress is back.
Arnaud: We are far away from the heart of Paris.
Cecily: Where is the heart of Paris?
Arnaud: It is where you live of course. Actually, no, you live between the Panthéon and Saint Germain — Paris’ brain. And I… I live on rue de Sèvres… in Paris’ wallet.
Cecily: The problem is, I date like a man. And men like the company of other men. In dresses.
Jaël: Any man who does not love you is either too gay or too straight. Either way, they have big defects.
Alexander: I doubt anyone with an IQ that qualifies them as even marginally better than brain dead could find happiness in the Côte d’Azur.
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