If I just got up in the morning and had no place to go and was retired or something, I would be sitting there and be thinking, "Gee, what is the purpose of life? Why are we all finite? Why do we get old and die? Is there nothing out there? Why is it so tragic? Why do our loved ones perish? Why do we generate?" Who wants to think about that stuff?
Woody AllenPale, nervous girls with black-rimmed glasses and blunt-cut hair lolled around on sofas, riffling Penguin Classics provocatively. [...] But it wasnโt just intellectual experiencesโthey were peddling emotional ones, too. For fifty bucks, I learned, you could โrelate without getting close.โ For a hundred, a girl would lend you her Bartok records, have dinner, and then let you watch while she had an anxiety attack.
Woody Allen