La Notte (1961)

Jeanne Moreau: Lidia Pontano

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Quotes 

• Lidia : [reading from a piece of paper]  "When I awoke this morning, you were still asleep. As I slowly emerged from my slumber, I heard your gentle breathing and through the wisps of hair over your face I saw your closed eyes and I could barely contain my emotion. I wanted to cry out, to wake you up, because you slept so deeply, you almost seemed lifeless. In the half light, the skin of your arms and throat appeared so vibrant, so warm and dry that I longed to press my lips against it, but the thought of disturbing your sleep, of you awake in my arms again, held me back. I preferred you like this, something on one could take from me bacause it was mine alone - - this image of you that would be everlasting. Beyond your face I saw my own reflection in a vision that was pure and deep. I saw you in a dimension that encompassed all the times of my life, all the years to come, even the years past as I was preparing to meet you. That was the little miracle of this waking moment: to feel for the first time that you were and always would be mine and that this night would go on forever with you beside me, - with the warmth of your blood, your thoughts, and your will mixed with mine. At that moment, I realized how much I loved you, Lidia, and the intensity of the emotion was such that tears welled up in my eyes. For I felt that this must never end, that all our lives should be like an echo of this dawn, with you no belonging to me but actually a part of me, something breathing within me that could could ever destroy except the apathy of habit, which is the only threat I see. Then you awoke and with a sleepy smile, kissed me, and I felt there was nothing to fear that we'd always be as we were at that moment, bound by something stronger than time and habit."

• Giovanni : Who wrote that?

  Lidia : You did.

• Mr. Gherardini : So as I was saying, my friend, it's absurd to speak of wealth now. No one's wealthy anymore. But should anyone still think of becoming rich, my only advice would be, "Don't worry about the money." I've always looked upon my businesses as works of art. Whatever profit I earned was of practically no concern to me. The important thing is to create something solid; something to be remembered.

  Signora Gherardini : But darling, not everyone can create something lasting.

  Mr. Gherardini : Please, do you mind? What sustains a writer - you for instance - is certainly not the idea of profit but a sense of necessity. You write because you have to...

  Signora Gherardini : Still, one has to live.

  Mr. Gherardini : I never worried about that. Life is what we make of it through our own efforts. What would you do if you couldn't write?

  Lidia : A few years ago he'd have killed himself. Now I don't know. Tell us.

  Giovanni : I don't consider myself that important. There are other solutions. A writer of today constantly wonders if writing isn't some sort of irrepressible but outdated instinct. This lonely craft of painstakingly joining one word to another that absolutely can't be mechanized.

  Mr. Gherardini : Are you sure of that?

  Giovanni : No. But you industrialists have the advantage of constructing your "stories" using real people, real houses, real cities. The rhythm of life today is in your hands. Perhaps even the future.

  Lidia : My husband's having a particularly bad day.

  Giovanni : I guess so.

  Mr. Gherardini : Are you one of the many worrying about the future? I'm building my own future, though the present keeps me plenty busy. Besides, the future will probably never come.

  Signora Gherardini : The future will be awful, don't you think?

• Giovanni : Life would be tolerable if not for its pleasures.

  Lidia : Is that your line?

  Giovanni : No, I no longer have ideas. Only memories.

• Lidia : There was no jealousy in the things I said. Not the slightest bit. That's the whole trouble.

• Lidia : I used to spend afternoons reading in bed. Tommaso would call and find me there. He could have kissed me. I wouldn't have resisted, out of boredom. But he was satisfied to watch me as I read. All those purposeless books.

• Tommaso Garani : Lidia, you're looking very well.

  Lidia : Marcella wanted to come, but I thought...

  Tommaso Garani : You were right. I'd rather not see anyone. It's amazing how tired you get of pretending at a certain point.

• Lidia : Are you married?

  Beatrice : No. I live alone. I was born to be alone. I'm too sensitive, as my dentist used to say.

• Valentina Gherardini : Confessions aren't my strong point anyway. In fact, I wonder what is? Not love, not vices. I've plenty of vices, but I hardly practice them. I don't even like whiskey.

  Lidia : [takes the whiskey]  Well, I think I've found the vice that suits me. It's nice and warm.

• Lidia : How old are you?

  Valentina Gherardini : Twenty-two - and many, many months.

  Lidia : You don't know how it feels when the years with on you and no longer make any sense. Tonight I just feel like dying. I really do. At least this agony would end and something new would begin.

  Valentina Gherardini : It may be nothing.

  Lidia : True. It may be nothing.

• Lidia : When we're young, we're so stupid, we can't imagine things coming to an end.

• Lidia : Every millionaire wants his own intellectual.

• Beatrice : Don't stare at me like that. I know I'm showing signs of aging. You've improved a lot, you know. You use to be so plain. You don't mind me saying that, do you?

  Lidia : I've heard it many times.

• Beatrice : The pool looks beautiful. Remember Grimaldi? I still see her.

  Lidia : No. Please, let's forget the past.

• Lidia : He never talked about himself. Only me - me - me. And I never understood. I thought so little of myself.