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Marianne: Look at the last page, there's a little poem about you. It's by me. Ferdinard: Tender... and cruel... real... and surreal... terrifying... and funny nocturnal... and diurnal usual... and unusual handsome as anyone Marianne: Pierrot le Fou ! Ferdinard: My name is Ferdinard. I have told you often enough. Christ almighty ! You bore me to death !

Ferdinard: I'm glad I don't like spinach, because if I did then I would eat it, and I can't stand the stuff.

Ferdinard: You see? I was right Marianne: What about? Ferdinard: You didn't believe we'd always be in love. Marianne: No. I didn't... (singing) Marianne: I never told you I'd love you all my life. Oh my love, you never swore to adore me all your life. We never made promises like that, knowing me knowing you. We never thought we ever would be caught by love fickle as we were. And yet, and yet, step by step, without a word between us, bit by bit, feelings slipped between our merry mingle bodies and words of love rose to our naked lips. Bit by bit lots of words of love began to mingle gently with our kisses. How many words of love? I never would have thought I'd always want you. Oh my love, we never would have thought we two could live together and not get bored. Wake up every morning and be just as surprised to be just as happy in the same bed, desire nothing more than that oh so banal pleasure of feeling so good to be together. And yet, and yet, step by step without a word between us, bit by bit our feelings bound us tight in spite of ourselves, bound us tight forever Feelings stronger than any words of love known or unknown. Feelings so wild and so strong. Feelings we never thought were possible before. Don't ever promise to adore me all your life. Let's not make promises like that knowing me knowing you. Let's keep the feeling that this love of ours, this love of ours, will be short and sweet. (stops singing) Ferdinard: Anyway, we'll know when we're dead... in 60 years... we'll know if we were always in love. Marianne: That's not true, I know I love you, but I'm not sure about you. Ferdinard: I do, Marianne, I do. Marianne: Well, I'll know soon enough.

Ferdinard: (quoting what he has written) "That is the basic problem... you're waiting for me... I'm not there... I arrive... I enter the room... that's when I really start to exist for you... But I existed before that... I had thoughts... I may have been suffering... So the problem is to show you alive, thinking of me,and at the same time, to see me alive by virtue of that very fact." Underlined.

(repeated line) Ferdinard: My name's Ferdinand.

(repeated line) Ferdinard: Allons-y, Alonzo!

Ferdinard: Poetry is a game of loser-take-all.

Ferdinard, Marianne: I can never have a real conversation with you. You never have ideas, only feelings. That's not true. There are ideas in feelings.

Ferdinard, Marianne: Why do you look so sad? Because you speak to me in words and I look at you with feelings.

Ferdinard: I think your legs and breasts are very moving.

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