“I am not trying to seduce you."I know that. But please, Mrs. Robinson. This is difficult for me.""Why is it," she said"Because I am confused about things. I can't tell what I'm imagining. I can't tell what's real. I can't --""Would you like me to seduce you?""What?""Is that what you're trying to tell me?”

“Oh, Kenneth, Kenneth, believe me - there's nothing I'd rather do! I want like hell to tell you. But I can't. I quite literally can't. Because, don't you see, what I know is what I am? And I can't tell you that. You have to find it out for yourself. I'm like a book you have to read. A book can't read itself to you. It doesn't even know what it's about. I don't know what I'm about.”

“Don't try to tell me what I am because I know what I am not”

“You can't touch me," I whisper. I'm lying, is what I don't tell him. He can touch me, is what I'll never tell him. Please touch me, is what I want to tell him.”

“You're right. I'm not the kind of woman to do something foolish out of defiance. I am, however, the kind of woman who would do something just to prove that you can't tell me what kind of woman I am.”

“Juliette, please, tell me what I'm supposed to do. How am I supposed to feel? It's one shitty thing right after another and I'm trying to be okay--God, I'm trying so hard but it's really freaking difficult and I miss--I miss you, I miss you so much it's killing me.”