Thomas: Nothing like a little disaster for sorting things out.
Thomas: I wish I had tons of money... Then I'd be free.
The Blonde: Couldn't you give us just a couple of minutes?
Thomas: Couple of minutes? I haven't even got a couple of minutes to have my appendix out.
Thomas: She isn't my wife, really. We just have some kids. No, no kids, not even kids. Sometimes, though, it feels as if we had kids. She isn't beautiful, she's... easy to live with. No, she isn't. That's why I don't live with her.
Thomas: Don't let's spoil everything, we've only just met.
Jane: No, we haven't met. You've never seen me.
Thomas: [seeing Verushka, the model, at a party the evening of the day she had just told the photographer that he'd better hurry because she had to catch a plane to Paris] I thought you were supposed to be in Paris.
Verushka: [taking a toke of her marijuana cigarette] I *am* in Paris!
Jane: What are you doing? Stop it! Stop it! Give me those pictures. You can't photograph people like that.
Thomas: Who says I can't? I'm only doing my job. Some people are bullfighters, some people are politicians. I'm a photographer.
Mime: Give me your money. Do it.
Thomas: I want you to see the corpse. We've got to get a shot of it.
Ron: I'm not a photographer.
Thomas: I am!