When do we start?

I must think about my work, my dear.

This is one of those things I show to my students because it's a complete bastardization a denial of any rules of perspective.

The time has come when you must tell me that you have a wife and two adorable children, and this madness between us can't go on any longer.

I was concerned with contemporary art that was all about piss, and sort of really sad things, and so I wanted to think about something happy.

That night was filled with shouts and threats.

A blind man isn't blind.

It used to be like it was some kind of game we was playing like kids.

I am tired of these paranoiac outbursts. Paranoiac?

Alarm Clock

Bad girl!

Ah!

(clamour)

Don't make trouble.

Cut out that Mexican.

Stop fooling around.

What a crowd!

Stop it!

Oh, come on, lay off.

Sylvia, behave.

Quiet!

Nothing I know of. For the blind, for the blind.

That word. I don't even know what it means.

No! Now, Joe. Now...

Quit horsing around!

Yuck counsel.

It's awfully lively.

Please don't start a scene.

But it's still a damned farce!

Stop all this nonsense.

Now, really!

Don't be ridiculous, darling.

He started it.

Don't play no more

That's bullshit!

Just gapping.

Rubbish.

Downright lie.

l m not pale.

Hilarity ensues.

It's pure burlesque.

I wish you'd stop being playful. So sorry.

Stop it, stop it!

Break it up, will you?

Stop it. No.