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I ask Allen if he agrees with the lines he wrote for Gertrude Stein in the film, in which she states that the job of the artist is not to succumb to despair but to find an antidote for the emptiness of existence. “I don’t know if I believe that myself,” he replies. “That’s all easy enough to attribute to a character in a movie, and one could make a case for that — that the job of the artist is to show why life, despite all its horror and brutality, is worth living and is a valuable thing. But one could also take the position that it’s not the job of the artist to do anything at all — just to make the best art that he can, because art gives pleasure and pleasure gives distraction, and distraction is the only thing that gets us by, really.”

Woody Allen Interview - LA Weekly

Le Pain Quotidien

She was still in love with him. Not madly, because their love had never been mad. It was the subtle one, the silent one, the type of love you quietly feel and smoothly see, the type of love you understand between the lines and gazes, wine and movies. She was still in love with him, but her life was a mess and she still had a long way to go on her own. The biggest step to begin this new life was letting him go completely, understanding he was not hers and she was no one to ask anything from him. She could not be his friend anymore simply because life killed her a tiny bit when it embraced him and ignored her, when he turned around to contemplate the rest of the world and stopped looking at her. It was time to let go, it was going to be a quiet yet painful little death. But it was all for the best.