The combination is horrible." "You are a successful painter." "Am I?
Geraldine, in all the small talk you and I have indulged in since my return from abroad, have you ever asked me one sincere, intelligent, affectionate question about my work ?" "I--yes--but I don't know anything about----" He laughed, and it hurt her.
"Don't you understand," she said, "that ordinary people are very shy about talking art to a professional----" "I don't want you to talk art.

Any little thing with blue eyes and blond curls can do it.

I wanted you to see what I do, say what you think, like it or damn it--only do something about it! You've never been to my studio except to stand with the perfumed crowd and talk commonplaces in front of a picture." "I can't go alone." "Can't you ?" he asked, looking closely at her in the dusk, so close that she could see every mocking feature.
"Yes," she said in a low, surprised voice, "I could go alone--anywhere--with you....

I didn't realise it before, Duane." "You never tried.

You once mistook an impulse of genuine passion for the sort of thing I've done since.