[Dave admires Burgundy's portrait of a nude woman
That's a woman!
She is a woman all right, and that's just it. Her pleasant poetry turned shrill. She cried for marriage.
Well, what's the matter with that?
Ah, no. Oh, for the small span of an evening, maybe two, even a week, a woman's cool hand... she's delicious, the breath of life. A woman nameless is a respite from the hard travail of life. A woman new, sloe-eyed, silent, temporary. My raison-dete is my grail. It's my sweetest vessel. It's ...