A casa mia succedono delle cose incompresibili... Le piante, le innaffio regolarmente e muoiono tutte, la frutta marcisce e i soffitti sembra che avanzino... Non so, se vuoi venire a controllare...
We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to make yourself feel nothing so as not to feel anything - what a waste!
Professor Perlman’s last speech to Elio, Call me by your name (2017)
I wanted her, I wanted her
But she doesn't like the life that I lead
She doesn't like the life that I lead
Doesn't like sand stuck on her feet
Or sitting around smoking weed
I must seem more like a friend in need
And I boast that it is meant to be
But in all honesty I don't have a hope in hell
I'm happy just to watch her move
And in all honesty I don't have a hope in hell
I'm happy just to watch her move
And she doesn't like the friends that I make
Doesn't make friends for friendship's sake
She just gets bored sitting by the lake
Her soul won't surface and her heart won't ache
And I boast that it is meant to be
But in all honesty I don't have a hope in hell
I'm happy just to watch her move
And I thought they could cure his disease
But in all honesty he didn't have a hope in hell
Now we'll never see him move
Constance Petersen: I think the greatest harm done the human race has been done by the poets
Anthony Edwardes: Oh, poets are dull boys, most of them, but not especially fiendish.
Constance Petersen: They keep filling people's heads with delusions about love... writing about it as if it were a symphony orchestra or a flight of angels.
Anthony Edwardes: Which is isn't, eh?
Constance Petersen: Of course not. People fall in love, as they put it, because they respond to a certain hair coloring or vocal tones or mannerisms that remind them of their parents.
Anthony Edwardes: Or... or... sometimes for no reason at all.
Constance Petersen: That's not the point. The point is that people read about love as one thing and experience it as another. Well, they expect kisses to be like lyrical poems and embraces to be like Shakespearean dramas.
Anthony Edwardes: And when they find out differently, then they get sick and have to be analyzed, eh?
Costanza: Eppure nessuno ha fatto tanto male all'umanità come i poeti.
John: Be', i poeti forse sono un po' svagati, ma non direi che sono cattivi.
Costanza: Sì, ma tutte quelle loro esagerazioni sull'amore... fanno credere che si tratti di chissà che cosa, di un volo d'angeli!
John: Il che non è, vero?
Costanza: No, affatto! Spesso ci si innamora perché si incontra qualcuno che ha la voce o i capelli o i modi che ci ricordano i nostri genitori.
John: E alle volte anche senza alcuna ragione.
Costanza: Ma il punto non è questo. Il male è che tutti quanti leggono sull'amore cose prive di ogni fondamento, e si aspettano che ogni bacio sia un poema ed ogni abbraccio un dramma in cinque atti.
John: E quando vengono le delusioni si ammalano e chiamano in soccorso la psicanalisi, eh?
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