Serge Gainsbourg

— I like your songs.
— And I love you.

This one didn't even know how to kiss. I had to teach her... that the mouth... is the main sexual organ.

— You match my aesthetic criteria. Diaphanous beauty... with the despair of a tragic character. Understand what I mean?
— Want to screw me?
— Maybe. But I'm saying it more poetically.

— You want to be run over?
— No, just awaiting a taxi. Somebody has to stop.
— May I wait with you?
— Of course. The street belongs to everyone.

A teacher at Art School told me, "if your parents like your work, it's shit."

Why get sick if no one can pity me?

— Your mum won't believe that's Bardot.
— Me neither, Dad.

— You had a close call. How will you get over it?
— I plan to step up my intake... of alcohol...