2 or 3 Things I Know About Her Quotes

Juliette: Words never say what I'm really saying.

Juliette Janson: In my dreams I used to feel that I was being sucked into a huge hole. Now I feel I'm beng scattered in a thousand pieces. Before, even if it was a slow process, I would wake up all at once. Now I'm afraid there'll be pieces missing.

Christophe: I had a dream last night, you know. I was walking all alone at the edge of a cliff. The path was only wide enough for one person. Suddenly I saw two twins walking toward me. I wondered how they would get past. Suddenly one of the twins went towards the other and they became one person. And then I realized that these two people were North and South Vietnam being united.

Juliette Janson: Language is the house man lives in.

Juliette Janson: Something may make me cry, but the reason for my tears is not contained in their traces on my cheeks. In other words, you can describe what happens what I do something, without necessarily indicating what makes me do it.

Juliette Janson: To define myself, one word: indifference.

Narrator: Where is the beginning? But what beginning? God created heaven and earth. But one should be able to put it better. To say that the limits of language, of my language, are those of the world, of my world, and that in speaking, I limit the world, I end it. And when mysterious, logical death abolishes those limits, there will be no question, no answer, just vagueness.

Narrator: What is art? Form becoming style; but the style is the man; therefore art is the humanizing of forms.

Narrator: There is increasing interaction between images and language. One might say that living in society today is almost like living in a vast comic strip.

Narrator: How do you render events? How to say or show that at 4:10 p.m. that afternoon, Juliette and Marianne came to the garage where Juliette's husband works? Right way, wrong way - how can one say exactly what happened? Of course, there is Juliette, her husband, the garage. But are these the words and images to use? Are there no others? Am I talking too loud, looking too close?

Narrator: Should I have talked about Juliette or the leaves, since it's impossible to do both at once? Let's say that both, on this October evening, trembled slightly.

Juliette Janson: Thought meshes with reality or calls it into question.

Juliette Janson: I know they're my eyes because I see with them. I know they're not my knees or whatever, because I've been told so. Suppose I hadn't been told. How would life be?

Narrator: Our thoughts are not the substance of reality, but its shadow.

Juliette Janson: To define oneself in a word: not yet dead.

Juliette Janson: I've changed and I'm still the same.

Juliette Janson: Speak as though quoting the truth. Old father Brecht said that, that actors should quote.

Narrator: Pax Americana: jumbo-sized brainwashing.

Juliette Janson: We often try to analyze the meaning of words but are too easily led astray. One must admit that there's nothing simpler than taking things for granted.

Juliette Janson: I don't know where or when, just that it happened. I have tried all day to recapture the feeling. There was a scent of trees. I was the world, the world was me. A landscape is like a face.

Juliette Janson: No one knows what the city of the future will be like. Part of the wealth of meaning it once had will undoubtedly be lost, undoubtedly. Maybe the creative and formative roles of the city will be taken over by other forms of communication, maybe television and radio...

Narrator: Objects exist, and if we pay them more attention than we do people, it is because they exist more than those people. Dead objects live on. Living people are often dead already.

Robert: People never really talk in films. I'd like to try with you.

Narrator: If you can't afford LSD, try colour TV.

Narrator: She is Marina Vlady. She is an actress. She's wearing a midnight-blue sweater with two yellow stripes. She is of Russian origin. She has dark chestnut or light brown hair. I'm not sure which.

Narrator: She is Juliette Janson. She lives here. She's wearing a midnight-blue sweater with two yellow stripes. She has dark chestnut or light brown hair. I'm not sure which. She's of Russian origin.

Narrator: Now she turns her head to the right, but that means nothing.

Narrator: Now she turns her head to the left, but that means nothing.

Juliette: I was doing the dishes. I started to cry. I heard a voice say to me, "You're indestructible." Me, myself, I. All of us.

Juliette: My impressions don't always relate to a specific object. For instance, desire. Sometimes we know the object of our desire. Sometimes we don't.

Narrator: What is an object? Maybe an object is what serves as a link between subjects, allowing us to live in society, to be together.

Narrator: Since social relations are always ambiguous, since my thoughts divide as much as unite, and my words unite by what they express and isolate by what they omit, since a wide gulf separates my subjective certainty of myself from the objective truth others have of me, since I constantly end up guilty, even though I feel innocent, since every event changes my daily life, since I always fail to communicate, to understand, to love and be loved, and every failure deepens my solitude, since - since - since I cannot escape the objectivity crushing me nor the subjectivity expelling me, since I cannot rise to a state of being nor collapse into nothingness - I have to listen, more than ever I have to look around me at the world, my fellow creature, my brother.

Narrator: The world alone. Today, when revelations are impossible and blood wars loom, when capitalism is unsure of its rights and the working class is in retreat, when the lightening progress of science makes future centuries hauntingly present, when the future is more present than the present, when distant galaxies are on my doorstep. My fellow creature, my brother.

Narrator: Where do we start? But start what? God created heaven and earth, sure, but that's too easy. We should put it better: Say that the limits of language are the world's limits, that the limits of my language are my world's limits, and that when I speak, I limit the world, I finish it. And one inevitable and mysterious day, death will come and abolish these limits, and there will be no questions nor answers. It will all be a blur.

Narrator: All I'm doing is looking for reasons to live happily. And if I now take this inquiry further, I find there's simply a reason to live. First, because there are memories. Then there's the present, and the ability to stop and savor it. Meaning, we have seized a reason to live as it goes by and held on to it for a few seconds, after its discovery amid the unique circumstances surrounding it. The birth of the simplest things in the human world, man's possession of them with his mind, a new world where men and things can live in harmony - such is my aim. It is as political as it is poetic. It explains, in any case, this longing for expression. Whose? Mine. Writer and painter.

Juliette: Thoughts agree with reality or challenge it. To challenge.

Juliette: No event exists in itself. It's linked with everything around it.

Juliette: Maybe the observer of this spectacle is me.

Narrator: Return to the ABC of existence.

Juliette: I had a funny feeling. I thought about it all day. The feeling of my ties to the world. Suddenly I felt I was the world and the world was me. It would take pages and pages to describe it. Volumes and volumes. A landscape is like a face.

Juliette: What does it mean to know something?

Juliette: Point to my eyes? I know they're my eyes because I see with them. I know they're not my knees because I was told they're not. - Calm down - What if I hadn't been told? And what about living?

Robert: I may be confusing thought and reality. Yes, I'd be tempted to say that. That since there aren't always real objects - that can vouch - for the truth - the truth of our thoughts. What we think is not reality - but a shadow of reality.

Narrator: I serenely take the road to dreams and forget the rest. I forget Hiroshima and Auschwitz. I forget Budapest. I forget Vietnam and minimum wages. I forget the housing crisis. I forget the famine in India. I've forgotten it all, except that since it takes me back to zero, I have to start over from there.

Title Card: HER: THE PARIS REGION