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George Sand: I used to think I'd die of suffocation when I was married. Now it's my freedom that's killing me.
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George Sand: I am not full of virtues and noble qualities. I love. That is all. But I love strongly, exclusively and steadfastly.
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Alfred: Art does *not* apologize!
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Marie: She's in love with Chopin.
Franz: The Polish corpse?
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Malfie: You promised to love me.
George: I didn't promise to succeed.
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Alfred De Musset: [taking a section of manuscript] Her memoirs? Am I in it?
Editor: No! It's, it's about her childhood. I expect you come in later, after she chews up her husband, and about a hundred other fellows.
Alfred De Musset: It's true, she's a cannibal. She would drink the blood of her children from the skull of her lover, and not feel so much as a stomach-ache.
Editor: Alfred, go home - put it into verse - I'll publish it - and then and only then will you get paid.
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Marie D'Agoult: George! You'll want to sit over here, my dear - all the respectable people are on the other side.
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[Their first meeting, after she sneaks in while he's playing the piano]
George Sand: Oh, don't stop! Monsieur Chopin, you are in the middle of a miracle! - I'm not quite yet cured.
Frederic Chopin: How did you get in here? Who are you?
George Sand: I am your slave, and you have summoned me with your music.
Frederic Chopin: Oh, yes. I think I know who you are: I have heard you described. Madame Sand, rumor has it you are a woman, and so I must ask you to leave my private chambers.
George Sand: Have I offended your modesty? I apologize. Only play me one more piece and I'll go.
Frederic Chopin: No! This is ridiculously improper. And frightening, as well.
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[after Chopin's coughing fit]
Eugene Delacroix: He has trouble with his lungs. It's the misery of his life.
Duchess D'Antan: Well, he should be bled. We have an excellent physician. He's developed a very special variety of leeches - quite painless, and they leave very little mark.
Franz Liszt: Better yet, send in George to Monsieur Chopin: she leaves no mark at all.
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[Alfred's satirical play begins]
Franz Liszt: Good evening. I am God. In the time that I am relating, I have grown disappointed in my master creation, the human race. I endowed them with everything: the riches of the land, and of the sea, and of the air... and enough intelligence to worship me.
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Franz Liszt: [as God] This is my servant Noah, and his wife Noëtte, and their children. Into their hands do I place the future of mankind.
George Sand: [as Noëtte] Oh, this heat! Will it never rain? Here sits my stupid husband; I don't know what God sees in him. Oh, who can express the despair of youth married to age? My husband is 600 years old, while I am but 150!
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Franz Liszt: [as God] Hurry, Noah, to the Ark, and fill it with two each of the creatures of land, sea, and air.
George Sand: [as Noëtte] Lord, we have no need for animals - art alone will save the world. Let's see, we'll need two of everything: two poets, two painters, two musicians...
Franz Liszt: [as God] Impossible, they will not come. Your conversation is not witty and you have no ideals.
George Sand: [as Noëtte] Ha ha, true, but we shall also give them free food and lodging for forty days and forty nights. Now, we shall also need two playwrights, two composers, two makers of velvet flowers...
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Marie D'Agoult: You won't get him with a dress; on the contrary, my dear. I know the man. He is not a man; he is a woman. He is all emotion and refinement. He has very few defenses. You must win him as a man wins a woman; if anyone can do it, you can, George.
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Alfred De Musset: Did you read her latest novel? It's not even literature - it's drainage. The only good books she ever wrote were when she was with me: every morning, while she was sleeping, I'd cross out half her adjectives.
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George Sand: [picking up a picture] This your family?
Frederic Chopin: No, that's my fiancée. Well, we're no longer engaged. Um, her family didn't feel that I was a very good risk for a husband. You know, no one really expects me to live very long.
George Sand: Balls!
Frederic Chopin: I beg your pardon?
George Sand: I don't believe you're, you're ill at all. You just need more strength. Take mine. Really - I have too much of it.
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George Sand: Chopin, do you love me?
Frederic Chopin: God help me, I do. You are superb.
[They kiss passionately, but Chopin stops]
Frederic Chopin: No!
George Sand: [desperately] What is wrong now?
Frederic Chopin: I'm frightened.
George Sand: Of me?
Frederic Chopin: Certain acts are... uh, unseemly. They are unsuitable.
George Sand: Chopin... it's an act of love! It's the divine mystery itself!
Frederic Chopin: You must think I'm inexperienced, but I assure you, I was baptized... in the brothels of Paris, when I first arrived. But, um... I'm so ill... and I have been for such a long time, and my body is such a great disappointment to me, that I've already said goodbye to it, I'm... not really *in it* any more, I'm just... happier floating about in music. And if I should come back... inside this miserable collection of bones, then I... am afraid that it would probably collapse altogether. Forgive me. I'm ashamed.
George Sand: No, no. Forgive me. I'm a fraud, you know. "Divine mystery"? I never experienced that with anyone! Always had disastrous relationships. And I never manage to stay in love.
Frederic Chopin: What?
George Sand: I don't know. I want too much... I think. Except when I hear you play... and when I'm around you. Look... I simply want to be with you. The rest doesn't matter. Really. Do you think we could just be together, like this?
Frederic Chopin: Yes. Yes.
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Marie D'Agoult: He hasn't fallen in love with her, he has succumbed to her. Poor man was simply standing there - nobody warned him - and he was crushed under her wheels!
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George Sand: We shall all be in our graves soon enough, but Chopin is eternal.
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George Sand: [George is looking over the script of Alfred's new play] The style's a bit precious. Mind if I rewrite it?
Alfred: Not at all. We'll have a horse sent in.
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Baroness Laginsky: I knew your father when he was young.
George Sand: Really?
Baroness Laginsky: Oh, yes. We girls were enraged when we heard he'd married that dancer, or whatever she was.
George Sand: You mean my mother?
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Felicien Mallefille: He'd better work on his epitaph because I'm going to kill him!
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Felicien Mallefille: God exists but he's no longer loved so he hides away to conceal his broken heart.
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George Sand: [to Chopin] You don't want me, and it's become complicated, like everything between two people. It seems to me a pity, because it could have been so simple.
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Duke D'Antan: [to Malfie] You're a fine shot, Sir. I can see you're not one of those perfumed prancers in there.
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Duke D'Antan: [regarding his wife] I wouldn't let her move to Paris so she's trying to bring Paris here. Well, it's her money. And I love her for it.
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Marie: I am quite marooned! Will you partner me?
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George Sand: Give me my money, you jackal!
Impromptu Quotes
Extended Reading
