Luc Teyssier

You see that? What's that pout? Juliette did that. I remember it perfectly. The pout is one of the French women's greatest weapons.

— All men are bastards.
— Not all. Some are just trying to help.
— I never thought I'd be the type to say this, but it's true. All men are bastards.
— The guy who was talking to you. He was...
— A bastard. A Eurotrash in Armani kind of bastard.
— In a black suit with a yellow shirt?
— Yeah.
— You know him? Of course you know him. All you bastards know each other.

— Do you believe in love, the kind that lasts for ever? <...> The question is, one man meant for one woman.
— But it is not an interesting question. It is the question of a little girl who believes in fairy tales.
— No. It's an everyone question. Everybody thinks they have the answer until one day... something happens.

— And I'm afraid that if he doesn't come back, that I'll... it'll hurt so much that I'll shrivel up and never be able to love anyone again.
— You say that now but... after a time, you would forget. First, you would forget his chin and then his nose and after a while you would struggle to remember the exact colour of his eyes. And one day you wake up and he's gone. His voice, his smell, his face. He will have left you. And then you can begin again.

— I would remind him of our life together. We had a perfect life. Evidently. I've never been so happy.
— When someone says they are happy, my ass begins to twitch.

— Can you describe it, the taste?
— It's a nice red wine.
— I think you can do better.
— A bold wine with a hint of sophistication and lacking in pretensión. Actually, I was just talking about myself. I don't know.
— No, you are not wrong. Wine is like people. The vine takes all the influences in life all around it.