“Was I bored? No, I wasn’t fuckin’ bored. I’m never bored. That’s the trouble with everybody - you’re all so bored. You’ve’ad nature explained to you and you’re bored with it. You’ve ’ad the living body explained to you and you’re bored with it. You’ve ’ad the universe explained to you and you’re bored with it. So now you just want cheap thrills and like plenty of ‘em, and it dun’t matter ’ow tawdry or vacuous they are as long as it’s new, as long as it’s new, as long as it flashes and fuckin’ bleeps in forty fuckin’ different colours. Well, whatever else you can say about me, I’m not fuckin’ bored!”

”How will I ever know anything in the middle of all this warmth and space, all this supershelter? I want to feel like the trampolinist when he falls back to earth and to gravity. To touch the earth with heaviness - just to touch it. God expose us, take away our padding and our room.”

“BAPTISTE : No. I couldn’t go on living like that!…like a lunatic in an asylum, and everyone around you talks in low voices, ‘What’s the matter with him? Is he ill?’ Ah! When I think that to please them I even had to go and see a doctor!

MME. HERMINE as she goes on laying the table : And what did he say?

BAPTISTE high angle shot, he smiles bitterly : Oh, he told me that I was as fit as a fiddle… imitating the doctor… ‘A little bit of depression, a little bit of overwork, three times nothing!’… And to round it off: ‘No medicine, but some good advice - go and see Baptiste, it’ll take you out of yourself.’ Dreamy again, then anxious… and what if I don’t want to be taken out of myself?