No Life

JULES:
Ahh...
YVONNE:
Ooh...
JULES:
Mmm...
YVONNE:
Oh, dear
JULES:
Oh, my
YVONNE:
Oh, my dear
JULES:
It has no prescence
YVONNE:
No passion
JULES:
No life
It's neither pastoral
Nor lyrical
YVONNE:
You don't suppose that it's satirical?
JULES:
Just density
Without intensity
YVONNE:
No life
Boys with their clothes off
JULES:
I must paint a factory next!
YVONNE:
It's so mechanical
JULES:
Methodical
YVONNE:
It might be in some dreary Socialistic periodical
JULES:
Good
YVONNE:
So drab, so cold
JULES:
And so controlled
JULES and YVONNE:
No life
JULES:
His touch is too deliberate, somehow
YVONNE:
The dog
JULES:
These things get hung
YVONNE:
Mmm
JULES:
And then they're gone
YVONNE:
Ahhh...
Of course he's young
JULES:
Hmm?
YVONNE:
But getting on
JULES:
Oh...
All mind, no heart
No life in his art
YVONNE:
No life in his life
JULES and YVONNE:
No
Life