“Tonight, I've finally learned to tell fantasy from reality. And, knowing the difference, I choose fantasy.”

“Gallimard: It's... a pure sacrifice. He's unworthy, but what can she do? She loves him... so much. It's a very beautiful story.Song: Well, yes, to a Westerner.Gallimard: Exuse me?Song: It's one of your favotite fantasies, isn't it? The submissive Oriental woman and the cruel white man.”

“Gallimard: You have to do what I say! I'm conjuring you up in my mind!Song: Rene, I've never done what you've said. Why should it be any different in your mind?”

“Consider it this way: what would you say if a blond homecoming queen fell in love with a short Japanese businessman? He treats her cruelly, then goes home for three years, during which time she prays to his picture and turns down marriage from a young Kennedy. Then, when she learns he has remarried, she kills herself. Now I believe you should consider this girl to be a deranged idiot, correct? But because it's an Oriental who kills herself for a Westerner–ah!–you find it beautiful.”

“It just hangs there. This little... flap of flesh. And there's so much fuss that we make about it. I think the reason we fight wars is because we wear clothes. Because no one knows–between the men, I mean–who has the bigger... weenie. So. if I’m a guy with a small one, I’m going to build a really big building or take over a really big piece of land or write a really long book so the other men don’t know, right? But see, it never really works, that's the problem. I mean, you conquer the country, or whatever, but you’re still wearing clothes, so there’s no way to prove absolutely whose is bigger or smaller. And that’s what we call a civilized society. The whole world run by a bunch of men with pricks the size of pins.”

“Why, in the Peking Opera, are women's roles played by men?...Because only a man knows how a woman is supposed to act.”

“Sometimes I hate you, sometimes I hate myself, but always I miss you”