Geneviève Le Theil: I pricked my head!

Dijon Waiter: What will you drink?

Maître Varange: Please.

Dijon Waiter: Would you like a good red Burgundy?

Maître Varange: With the hen...

Dijon Waiter: Why not a Bolnay?

Maître Varange: Can you give me a second?

Dijon Waiter: A Pommard?

Maître Varange: Do you mind? With the hen - a Chambertin.

Dijon Waiter: Okay. A 1945?

Maître Varange: Would you have a 1949?

Dijon Waiter: We do and it's the best.

Maître Varange: Yes, I know. It's a bit spicier. It's better.

Geneviève Le Theil: This bag's heavy.

Renaud Sarti: I have my toothbrush and a copy of "Don Quixote" - my bedside book. I'm into chivalry too.

Cafe Waiter: What would you like to drink? Vittel? Evian?

Renaud Sarti: Some dry white wine.

Geneviève Le Theil: Don't you like my hairdo?

Renaud Sarti: I like your hair. It's the only part of you that's too conventional.

Renaud Sarti: Our lives on this earth are pointless.

Geneviève Le Theil: Speak for yourself.

Renaud Sarti: I am.

Renaud Sarti: There's enough food for the next 24 hours.

Geneviève Le Theil: There's no way we're staying here.

Renaud Sarti: Why not?

Geneviève Le Theil: Because, I don't know.

Renaud Sarti: I know. You're concerned about your reputation.

Geneviève Le Theil: I couldn't care less.

Renaud Sarti: You're lying. When you got your suitcases from the hotel, you had me wait in the cab. You were afraid we might be seen together.

Geneviève Le Theil: Get out of here, Renaud.

Renaud Sarti: Let your hair down and I'll go. You probably have a lover. Don't you like him to look at you?

Geneviève Le Theil: I always turn off the light. You make me say terrible things.

Renaud Sarti: Nothing but the truth.

Renaud Sarti: You have no detective novels?

Geneviève Le Theil: There are a few Simenons on the bottom shelf.

Renaud Sarti: Simenon writes psychological thrillers.

Renaud Sarti: Agatha Christie is better than nothing, I guess.

Geneviève Le Theil: Don't you want to take a look at my courtyard?

Renaud Sarti: Surroundings don't matter to me. Plus, we're locked up in here.

Geneviève Le Theil: You might as well be in prison.

Renaud Sarti: My bed would not be as nice. FInding such a bed is a miracle. They're always too small.

Geneviève Le Theil: My dad had it custom-made.

Renaud Sarti: Plus, there are no girls in jail.

Geneviève Le Theil: Nobody has ever slept in this bed, not even my fiancé.

Renaud Sarti: Why not?

Geneviève Le Theil: It's not appropriate.

Renaud Sarti: It's not?

Geneviève Le Theil: Not here.

Renaud Sarti: But it would be, someplace else.

Renaud Sarti: [Naked in bed] You feel no pleasure.

Geneviève Le Theil: I've never been this happy.

Renaud Sarti: Not really. Don't blush. There are many woman just like you. It's just a matter of time.

Geneviève Le Theil: Yes.

Renaud Sarti: No science fiction?

Geneviève Le Theil: I didn't know you liked that.

Renaud Sarti: I do!

Geneviève Le Theil: I'll get you some tomorrow.

Geneviève Le Theil: When I was a Girl Scout they called me "busy bee."

Renaud Sarti: How charming.

Renaud Sarti: Take your clothes off.

Geneviève Le Theil: I haven't cleaned in two days.

Renaud Sarti: Take your clothes off and clean.

Geneviève Le Theil: Are you crazy?

Renaud Sarti: Not at all. I want to see you clean naked.

Geneviève Le Theil: You have strange ideas.

Renaud Sarti: Everybody does, but they're kept hidden. I'm true to myself and don't hide anything.

Renaud Sarti: I had pneumonia when I was 14. Every morning, one of my cousins cleaned my room. To pass time, I'd imagine she was naked. When you're 14, you're a little naughty. I was a little ashamed and never dared ask her to take off her dress. I'm glad I waited. She wasn't as pretty as you .

Geneviève Le Theil: The blinds were open. Renaud that's terrible!

Renaud Sarti: What's terrible? To be in the nude? Haven't you read the Bible? You body isn't obscene. What's obscene is the way that gentleman was spying on you and the thoughts he was having. Don't move, woman of scruples.

Geneviève Le Theil: When I think of who I was 10 days ago. I don't think I'd recognize myself on the street. I can't even be ashamed anymore.

Renaud Sarti: If you can love, just love being in love - or say nothing.

Geneviève Le Theil: Why are you laughing?

Renaud Sarti: Why such drama? You are a woman, a real woman, for the first time. That's a good thing. Dry those tears. Smile. It's no big deal. Why make such a big deal of your little self?

Geneviève Le Theil: Why did you make fun of me?

Renaud Sarti: I didn't. Let me explain: I laughed at your choice of words. You screamed, "I love you, Renaud!" I laughed because you called it love.

Renaud Sarti: One day, I'll write a treatise. I'll entitle it "About Love." Such books exist but they need some serious changes. I'll entitle it "About Love" and I'll be against it. Here.

Geneviève Le Theil: What don't you like about love? What's it done to you?

Renaud Sarti: Have I been hurt by love? My answer is no. And what, do you think I scare love away? On the contrary. I wanted to die and what did I find? Love, I've been overfed with love.

Geneviève Le Theil: I'll never say I love you again. I'd rather get my tongue cut off.

Renaud Sarti: Don't pout.

Geneviève Le Theil: All those people I know who are like me - like I used to be - - can they be missing who they really are without ever knowing it? I feel like I'm from some other planet. Nothing makes sense to me anymore.

Pierre Leroy: Geneviève! You're making a mistake. You're not yourself. Pleasure and love are two different things!

Geneviève Le Theil: I've just said good-bye to my past... and to my future.

Renaud Sarti: You still have the present.

Geneviève Le Theil: Go, then! Get the hell out! I hope you find a better place, you letch!

Renaud Sarti: Look at me. You've never really looked at me. You're always looking at yourself. If you still don't know what you're getting into, I can tell you it's an abyss.

Katov - un sculpteur: Where did you find him?

Geneviève Le Theil: In Dijon.

Katov - un sculpteur: In Dijon? What the hell was he doing there?

Geneviève Le Theil: Dying.

Renaud Sarti: The only reason why art sells so well is that its not art anymore.

Renaud Sarti: You're hopeless.

Raphaële: Hope doesn't change anything.

Renaud Sarti: Come over here. What's shocking is the unknown.

Renaud Sarti: With that money, I'll buy myself a truckload of cashmere sweaters. Or, rather, a calculator.

Raphaële: What do you want to calculate?

Renaud Sarti: The future. I'll be a secret advisor to every statesman. I'll predict wars, even those which weren't meant to be. They will have no choice but to wage them.

Renaud Sarti: Coco, tell me what you're writing. He's a wonderful poet. Probably the last.

Coco: Blue as blood, Red as love, Green is hate, White as the madman's sun, The rainbow's in your eyes.

Renaud Sarti: Today, art is more valuable than the Suez project or oil.

Geneviève Le Theil: Are you going to tell me one can't be jealous?

Renaud Sarti: Jealousy doesn't exist. It's just a name we give the worst of arrogance, to wounded pride.

Geneviève Le Theil: If you loved me and saw me in the arms of another man, would you not care?

Renaud Sarti: Should your pleasure and happiness make me suffer? Is that what you call love?

Geneviève Le Theil: Yes.

Renaud Sarti: All you think of is yourself. It's disgusting - "You're mine, I'm yours. We belong to each other." What about having some respect for the individual?

Geneviève Le Theil: Some respect for the individual?

Renaud Sarti: Of course. In the name of love, we could stop drinking, eating and bathing, because they are a certain form of pleasure.

Geneviève Le Theil: You know how sometimes, in your dreams, you want to wake up, but you can't? You dream that you're getting back into bed so you can wake up. I'd like to be in bed and close my eyes.

Renaud Sarti: Would you be happy if I made money? Just on principle? There's nothing easier than that. I'm going to write detective novels. I know the recipe: a little sadism, a little mystery and a little sex. I can write two a month. I know who to sell them to.

Geneviève Le Theil: I wouldn't want you to compromise yourself, darling.

Renaud Sarti: That's so you! Compromise myself? What about myself? There's nothing to compromise. Plus, detective stories are not as compromising as literature.

Renaud Sarti: [Admiring his new writing table] You know what? Let's inaugurate it!

[Lifts up Geneviève and lays her down on top of the new table]

Katov - un sculpteur: Florence would be a good place to work. Tuscany in the spring is ideal for inspiration. I've rented an old monastery. There's nothing more beautiful.

Renaud Sarti: Florence or Paris...

Raphaële: Caracas...

Renaud Sarti: Or a quiet suburb...

Katov - un sculpteur: Is all the same, I know. But I love Florence

Raphaële: [singing] King Renaud is back from war, With his guts in his hands, His mother's waiting in the tower, And she can see her son Renaud, Rejoice, Renaud! Your wife gave birth to a king, Neither my wife nor my son, Can bring joy to my heart, I can feel death is after me, Mother, have a bed made for me, Have it made, So my wife doesn't know, I won't sleep in it for long, For at midnight I shall pass away...

Geneviève Le Theil: "The lady left at 5:00." That's your novel?

Renaud Sarti: You're sweet - but you can't do anything for me after all. You're useless - - your love, your good heart, your compassion - I'm tired of it all. I'm exhausted, I'm spent.

Katov - un sculpteur: The truth is there are two Renauds: the Renaud who loves you and the Renaud who hates the one who loves you.

L'inspecteur de police: He's so polite, he'd make a busload of whores blush.

L'inspecteur de police: I'm sure that broad's no prude.

Renaud Sarti: I think I love you. It's awful.

Renaud Sarti: She wants 10,000 liras. She's worth them, isn't she?

[Starts to walk away with the young whore]

Renaud Sarti: Let's go.

Geneviève Le Theil: [Stops Renaud] You can't do that to me. You have no right.

Renaud Sarti: Its not my fault if love is boring tonight. I want a whore. It's my right.

Geneviève Le Theil: Do you really want a whore?

Renaud Sarti: You'll always be a charming middle-class girl. A middle-class girl can't sell herself. A middle-class girl loves, or buys.

Raphaële: Renaud will reappear one of these days, when you least expect it.

Geneviève Le Theil: Here or anywhere - what does it matter?

Raphaële: Are you still in his garden?

Geneviève Le Theil: Yes, but I've closed the gate.

Raphaële: The garden of clouds. One day you'll blow on it and it'll be gone!

Geneviève Le Theil: Yes, but I don't want to blow it!

Geneviève Le Theil: I'm myself and that's a great feeling.

Raphaële: I thought you were dead, my lord. Or, gone crazy.

Renaud Sarti: I am both.

Renaud Sarti: Where's the Boy Scout and the angel of Florence? Where's the Good Samaritan? Is she here?

Maître Varange: The stores, the obligations, the apartment buildings - if I may ask, why sell more than two thirds of your capital?

Geneviève Le Theil: So I can work. I want to open a business to keep me busy.

Maître Varange: I thought you were getting married.

Geneviève Le Theil: Exactly. And that's why I want to be busy with something I enjoy.

Maître Varange: So why are you getting married, dear child? - - - You didn't answer my question.

Renaud Sarti: Would you have a cigarette?

Geneviève Le Theil: I don't smoke.