— I think you’d better go away somewhere.
— But I’ve only just come back.— Monica! Monica! Come here at once!
— What on earth’s the matter? Have you or have you not
ever seen me overact? — Frequently!
— It’s a conspiracy! I knew it! As a matter of fact,
you’re overacting now. Oh, very well. I give in.
Everybody’s against me. It doesn’t matter about me.
Oh, no. I’m only the breadwinner. It doesn’t matter how much
I’m wounded and insulted! It doesn’t matter how much
my timorous belief in myself is subtly undermined.Your belief in yourself
is about as timorous as Napoleon’s.And look what happened to him. He died forsaken and alone on a beastly
little island in the middle of the sea.Yes, islands have that in common.(AUDIENCE LAUGHS)