The Dreamers

Isabelle:
I entered this world on the Champs-Elysees, 1959. La trottoir du Champs Elysees. And do you know what my very first words were? New York Herald Tribune! New York Herald Tribune!

Isabelle:
Other people's parents are always nicer than our own, and yet for some reason, our grandparents are always nicer than other people's.

Isabelle:
My parents f***ed once in their lives. That's why we're twins, they didn't want to make it twice.

Isabelle:
There's no such thing as love. There are only proofs of love.

Matthew:
The first time I saw a movie at the cinématèque française I thought, "Only the French... only the French would house a cinema inside a palace."

Matthew:
I was one of the insatiables. The ones you'd always find sitting closest to the screen. Why do we sit so close? Maybe it was because we wanted to receive the images first. When they were still new, still fresh. Before they cleared the hurdles of the rows behind us. Before they'd been relayed back from row to row, spectator to spectator; until worn out, secondhand, the size of a postage stamp, it returned to the projectionist's cabin. Maybe, too, the screen was really a screen. It screened us... from the world.

Matthew:
I don't believe in God, but if I did, he would be a black, left-handed guitarist.

Matthew:
As we walked, we talked and talked and talked about politics, about movies, and about why the French could never come close to producing a good rock band.

Matthew:
I think you prefer when the word "together" means not "a million," but just two.

Matthew:
I could hear my heart pounding. I don't know if it was because I'd just been chased by the police or because I was already in love with my new friends.

Théo:
[Reading]. A revolution isn't a gala dinner. It cannot be created like a book, a drawing or a tapestry. It cannot unfold with such elegance, tranquility and delicacy. Or such sweetness, affability. Courtesy, restraint and generosity. A revolution is an uprising, a violent act by which one class overthrows another.

Isabelle, Théo:
We accept you, one of us! One of us!

Isabelle:
We do love you very much!

Matthew:
Has he never been inside of you?

Father:
Listen to me, Théo. Before you can change the world you must realize that you, yourself, are part of it. You can't stand outside looking in.

Father:
Poets don't sign petitions. They sign poems.

Matthew:
I thought you had many lovers. I mean when I saw you for the first time, at the Cinématheque, you and Theo, you looked so cool, so sophisticated. Like a movie star.

Isabelle:
Théo, Théo. Wake up.