Emilie Quotes in You're Ugly Too (2015)

Emilie: So, you don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but... they released you from prison to look after Stacey?

Will: Yeah, they um... gave me something called temporary compassionate leave so I can look after her.

Emilie: Can I ask you a question? Why was Will in prison?

Stacey: I... can't say. It's private.

Emilie: You don't know either, do you?

Stacey: No.

Will: Did you ever think that once you found out how babies are made that maybe everything goes downhill after that?

Emilie: [chuckles]

Will: What? You know what I mean. That feeling you had when you were a kid. Just weightlessness, you know - it's gone forever.

Emilie: There is an old Romanian saying - 'A cow between two bales of hay will go hungry'.

Will: I don't think I understand.

Emilie: If a cow is the same distance away from both bales of hay, it cannot make a rational decision to choose one over the other. So... it dies of hunger.

Will: I still don't think I understand. Am I supposed to be the cow?

Emilie: You're one of the bales of hay.

Stacey: What's the French for 'douche bag'?

Emilie: I think that's mostly French already.

Emilie: And you've never done a brave thing in your life?

Grandfather: Maybe there are different ways to be brave. Did you know the French have the best carrier pigeons? And this could be the difference in the war - our messages getting through.

Emilie: I don't want to hear about the birds.

Grandfather: They are released at the front and told to go home - this is all they know. But to get there they must fly over war. Can you imagine such a thing? Here you are flying over so much pain and terror - and you know you can never look down. You have to look forward or you'll never get home. I ask you - what could be braver than that?

Emilie: [quoting lines from a song] Where is the friend I seek? My longing rises with the sun. Night fades, in vain I call his name. I see his traces, I know he is there. I feel him where the flowers sweeten the air. Where saplings sprout, and wheat thrives. He is the breeze that caresses me. The scent for which I long. I hear his voice blend into the summer's song.