PIERROT (hopeless)
No—I can’t do it. It’s gone out of me. (Desperately) Pierrette—I’ve come to a conclusion. I ought never to have married!
PIERRETTE (suddenly stabbed)
Oh, Pierrot, it’s been the most beautiful thing in all the world!
PIERROT
That’s because you’re a woman, Pierrette, and not an artist.
PIERRETTE
But you said it was the most beautiful thing in all the world, Pierrot.
PIERROT (vaguely)
Did I? That was long ago. You don’t understand, Pierrette. Women never do. Life to them is a little cage in which they sit all day long and sing tiny songs about tea and muffins. Men are different. Put them in a cage and they sing for a day. Then they begin to droop.