Midnight in Paris

— A man in love with a woman from a different era. I see a photograph.
— I see a film.
— I see insurmountable problem.
— I see... rhinoceros.

Hemingway: I hate it.
Gil: You haven't even read it yet.
Hemingway: If it's bad, I'll hate it. If it's good, then I'll be envious and hate it even more. You don't want the opinion of another writer.

You know, nostalgia is denial. Denial of the painful present.

No subject is terrible if the story is true, if the prose is clean and honest, and if it affirms courage and grace under pressure.

I believe that love that is true and real creates a respite from death. All cowardice comes from not loving, or not loving well, which is the same thing. And when the man who is brave and true looks death squarely in the face like some hunters... It is because they love with sufficient passion to push death out of their minds, until the return that it does to all men. And then you must make really good love again. Think about it!

Sex and alcohol. Fuels the desire kills the performance, according to the Bard.

The artist's job is not to succumb to despair but to find an antidote for the emptiness of existence.

Picasso only thinks that women are to sleep with, or to paint.

— ... I’m engaged to marry a woman I love – at least I think I love her. Christ, I’m supposed to love her if I’m marrying her.
— The rhinoceros make love by mounting the female, but is there a difference in the beauty between two rhinoceroses?

There's no city like this in the world. There never was!

I like cheap sexy. That makes me shallow.