Parce que c'était lui, Parce que c'était moi

She: My heart flutters and my mind goes to a thousand directions.
He: Spring comes early this year.

She: You know what I've been through. I still remember what you said the other day.
He: What did I say?

She: Love is short, forgetting is long.
He: You like him?

She: I have not felt so alive for a long time. I like him.
He: He has your attention it seems.

She: Because it is he. Yes.
He: 'Parce que c'était lui, Parce que c'était moi' *

She: Pardon me. Sometimes you say the strangest things I don't understand.
He: I was thinking aloud something Montaigne once said.

She: I am still fathoming love. How I am feeling about him now, is that love?
He: It could be.

She: How will I know?
He: Desire is not love.

She: I admit I am the grasshopper. Don't be so patronizing and clinical. Please get to the point
He: In real love you want the other person's goodness. In romance, you want the person.

She: The many potteries I made in class have nothing in them. I don't want to collect anymore empty yesterdays.
He: Love has a certain inborn suffering to it, you know.

She: Oh, puh-lease... Then again, that's why I like talking with you.

*Because it was him, because it was me