Rose: It’s not up to you to save me, Jack.
Jack: You’re right… only you can do that.
Rose: It’s so unfair.
Ruth: Of course it’s unfair. We’re women. Our choices are never easy.
I’m not an idiot, I know how the world works. I’ve got ten bucks in my pocket, I have no-nothing to offer you and I know that. I understand. But I’m too involved now. You jump, I jump, remember? I can’t turn away without knowing you’ll be all right. That’s all I want.
Rose, you’re no picnic, all right? You’re a spoiled little brat, even, but under that, you’re the most amazingly, astounding, wonderful girl, woman that I’ve ever known.
That’s the one good thing about Paris: there’s a lot of girls willing to take their clothes off.
The difference between Cal’s taste in art and mine is that I have some. They’re fascinating. It’s like being inside a dream or something. There’s truth but no logic.
The others were gracious and curious about the man who had saved my life. But my mother looked at him like an insect. A dangerous insect, which must be squashed quickly.
The purpose of university is to find a suitable husband. Rose has already done that.
Jack: This is crazy.
Rose: I know. It doesn’t make any sense. That’s why I trust it.
Ah, forget it, boy-o. You’re as likely to have angels fly out your arse as to get next to the likes of her.