Cecily: So I flirted with Saint Peter and he let me right into heaven.
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Cecily, on Paris.
Cecily: Paris is not the city of lights, but the city of men. The streets crawl with both fine specimens of the race and skew-whiff tripod-like creatures, relentlessly parading through the streets with their cocks to the sky.
Cecily, on a French man by the fountain.
Cecily: His legs were crossed and his pant leg skimmed just above his sock, exposing a little rectangle of skin. Apart from this, he was wrapped in black. It was extremity erotica. He was a geisha.
Cecily, on immorality.
Cecily: There is nothing more immoral than putting a bunny in a dryer.
Pedro, on Cecily’s needs.
Pedro: A queen like you has much more use for a dragon than a boyfriend.
Pedro, on Cecily’s potential husband.
Pedro: It would not be fair for you to have a husband. Think about all the others left without a muse for their poor souls.
Carlo, on love.
Carlo: Remember, if you think you are in love Cecily, a butterfly cannot suddenly turn into a snail.
Two friends, on the doctor.
Cecily: I was looking at wedding rings this morning.
Arnaud: Why?! Butterflies’ fingers are too thin for rings dear. You must be ill. Go and see a doctor.
Charles, on fate and fortune.
Charles: Fate has never been cruel. Neither has fortune. Unless you include a complete disregard for allowing me everything I want, whenever I want it.
Cecily, on a beautiful lover.
Cecily: His face comes directly from heaven. But, like the concept of heaven, his personality has some holes.