Gulley Jimson:
What are your feet like?
Charwoman:
Why?
Gulley Jimson:
If they're really old, trampled feet - as I suspect - I'd like to draw them.
Charwoman:
Draw your own feet!
[she leaves]
Gulley Jimson:
Old women's feet... thin, flat, long, clinging to the ground like reptiles.
Gulley Jimson:
Go away. Scram. Tie lead weights to your feet, fireworks in your hair, kiss your mother goodbye and jump in the river. I don't know you. I don't want to know you. Buzz off! Explode!
Gulley Jimson:
[to Nosey] Now see what you've done. Got me locked out for life.
[Referring to prison]
Nosey:
My bike! Bring it back. My bike!
Man in the Street 1:
Stop, thief! Stop, thief!
Man in the Street 2:
Stop, thief!
Man in the Street 1:
Stop, thief! Stop, thief!
Bobby:
[Blows his whistle]
Nosey:
No, no no. It's all right. He's - he's a not a theif. He's a friend of mine.
Bobby:
You start yelling "stop, thief" at innocent people...
Nosey:
I never did.
Bobby:
...and you'll find yourself in hot water. Now, be off with you. And pull your socks up.
Constable:
Mr. Jimson?
Gulley Jimson:
No. That's my first cousin, once removed, an artist who's always getting into trouble with the police. He just went up the road. Shall I call him back?
Constable:
Have you just sent a telephone message of a threatening character to Mr. Hickson of Portland Place?
Gulley Jimson:
I only said I'd burn his house down and cut his liver out.
Constable:
Now he doesn't want to prosecute, but if you go on making a nuissance of yourself, well, he's gonna have to take steps.
Gulley Jimson:
Would he rather I cut his liver out without phoning?
Constable:
Now, come now, Mr. Jimson. Put yourself in his place.
Gulley Jimson:
I wish I could. It's a very nice place.
Gulley Jimson:
Of course you want to be an artist. Everybody does, once. But they get over it, like measles and chicken pox.
Nosey:
But there have to be artists!
Gulley Jimson:
And lunatics too! But why go and live in an asylum before you're sent for?
Miss D. Coker:
Excuse me, Mrs. Monday, I'm Miss D. Coker, a friend of Mr. Jimson's and we want a few words with you, and not in the street, if you please.
Hodges:
Are you sure that Sir and Lady Beeder are expecting you?
Gulley Jimson:
Expecting me? They're down on their knees praying for me.
Gulley Jimson:
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Anyone at home? Mrs. Morton Graines Waring? She's gone to Java.
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Abel:
That's all right, I'll work down there. Come. I want to get started.
Gulley Jimson:
What are you doing?
Miss D. Coker:
I'm saying my prayers; I forgot them.
Gulley Jimson:
I thought you hated G-d.
Miss D. Coker:
Maybe I do.
Gulley Jimson:
Why do you pray then?
Miss D. Coker:
Well, he's our Father, isn't he?
Gulley Jimson:
That's a funny reason.
Gulley Jimson:
I like it here: bricks and broken glass, and an old garbage can. It's the story of my life.
Gulley Jimson:
It could happen to anyone, dear. All the greatest artists got their squares wrong. Numbers were invented by Arabs who hate art.复制复制成功复制失败，请手动复制
