Cecily: I’m hungry all the time. I don’t know why. I want a big bowl of pasta.
Charles: Please don’t be with child. Movies end with marriage and childbirth because nothing happens thereafter.
theatre
Two friends, on codices.
Xavier: I love the word “codex”.
Cecily: Me too. It’s so “Davinci”.
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.
Delilah, on New Year’s Eve.
Delilah: How did you celebrate this castratingly realisational passage of pointless measurement of arbitrary parameters? Did you have a snog and a whisky? Or a cabaret and a spliff? Or, dare I say it, a bottle episode?
Cecily: Bottle episode. Setting: my house. Cast: every Tinder date I’ve met over the past year. Food: fromage. Ending: catastrophic, as preordained.
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.
Two creatives, on writing.
Xavier: I’m writing a play and I don’t like it yet.
Cecily: I’m writing a life, and I’m starting to dread the next plot twist.
thedailymails 