Delilah: You’re not as destructive as you think you are. You still have wild delusions about your own power. That’s the narcissism of youth. Guess you’re not as old as you thought you were.
paris
Carlo, to Cecily, after returning from Italy.
Carlo: Without you I become a bourgeois.
Two friends, on endings.
Charles: I live a double life at best. When, where, and how does it all end? Do I walk into work one day and they’ll all have realised I’m not the person they always thought me to be?
Cecily: You already know your end. It’s preordained. Every moment of your life you have respired as Don Draper, and now you’re questioning whether your writers are going to spontaneously change your course? Hold their hands and walk into that ocean my friend. Buy the world a Coke.
Charles: I want a new story.
Cecily: So did Don. Escape is futile.
Two friends, on being sober.
Arnaud: You are sober?
Cecily: Yes.
Arnaud: And the world is still colourful?
Cecily: Very much so.
Arnaud: Was it an accident, your sobriety?
Two friends, on an orchestra.
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.
Two friends, on the balm of wine.
Charles: Paris has given me an unshakeable malaise.
Cecily: You need a tasting flight and some fromage, tout de suite.
Elijah, on sadness.
Elijah: Sometimes sadness makes me very unhappy.
Sisters, on abs.
Delilah: You seem slightly flattened.
Cecily: Flattened how? Empty? Somebody told me that the other day. I think I’m waiting for something exciting to happen and ruining other people’s exciting lives in the process. This is because I am a heartless succubus that enjoys sucking the life out of others for my personal pleasure.
Delilah: Jesus, I was just talking about your abs.
Cecily: How can you see my abs?
Delilah: That was a joke; a line to contrast the near tide of somewhat uncharacteristic personal revelation.
Cecily, on herself.
Cecily: The only way I can think to classify myself is sui generis. That makes me feel so alone.
Two friends, on bed.
Vinnie: I love being in bed with my gym socks on, like a fourteen year-old American teenager.
Cecily: I love being in bed naked with volumes of my own poetry, like an 18th Century cortigiana onesta.
thedailymails 