Cleopatra and Frankenstein

Когда самая темная часть тебя встречается с самой темной частью меня, рождается свет.

Everybody’s got a hungry heart. The trick is to learn when you’re eating to fill the heart instead of the stomach. Feeding the stomach, she said, is easy. That’s just diet. It’s learning how to feed the heart that’s hard.

She worried that she was one of those artists who care more about being an artist than they do about making art.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-four. Old enough to smoke, if you were thinking of telling me not to."

"You are the perfect age to smoke," he said.

Wherever you are going, it is waiting for you.

Don’t even repeat it to yourself.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s humiliating.”
“Sweetheart, love is humiliating. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?”
“Who would have told me that?”
“Do you know the word humiliate comes from the Latin root humus, which means ‘earth’? That’s how love is supposed to feel.”
“Like hummus?”
“Like earth. It grounds you. All this nonsense about love being a drug, making you feel high, that’s not real. It should hold you like the earth.”

Talented people were often unhappy, but unhappy people were not often talented. Frank always thought that Cleo's main gift was her way of being.

She was uniquely attractive, not just in her looks but in her essence. She had a way of bringing the light into a room with her, like a window being flung open.

"Are you masturbating?"

"What?"

"Masturbating," she says again. "It's the best sedative, you know. If you're not sleeping, you need to masturbate more."

"Please stop saying masturbate," I say.

"Movie, melatonin, and masturbation," she says, tapping out the words on my hand with her finger. "Best night's sleep you'll ever have.

People are like this too, you know," he says eventually. "We break. We put ourselves back together. The cracks are the best part. You don't have to hide them."

People who feel the need to say 'I'm fine' are never fine, sweetheart," she says.

Who was she? An artist who didn't make art. A wife without a husband. A child with no mother.

"You know me" said Quentin. "I'd rather be crying in a limo than laughing on a bus."

"Are you Buddhist or something?"

"No. I'm just older than you. I've learned some things."

"Hi Jiro," she said softly.

"You are just as pretty as your picture" he said.

Zoe noted that he had not said more pretty and was immediately disappointed. "Just as pretty" was practically an insult.

"Because it shows a total unwillingness to change. That is not just who you are, Frank. It's who you've become, who you choose to be. You just refuse to acknowledge the choice."

Finally, he humbly asked God for the strength to bear his hungry heart, the heaviest weight of all to bear.

"You know all those models fuck each other, right?" he continued.

"They don't really want a man around." He exhaled.

"I think she's struggling."

"She's an artist. She's always struggling.”