Carrie Bradshaw from the series “Sex and the City” brought up an entire generation of women, but those who have passed this film can find valuable thoughts for themselves in her statements:
Maybe all men - a drug? Sometimes depression starts from them, and sometimes, as now, wings grow from them.
You can't stop being yourself, just because you're afraid, right?
Did I really love Biga, or was I simply dependent on this pain, exquisite pain, the desire of someone unattainable?
Maybe our mistakes and make up our fate.
When a man makes bold gestures, it is considered romantic. When a woman does this, it is often considered despair or psychos.
When happiness comes into our hands, we become suspicious! Is it really necessary to complicate things to believe? We are accustomed to thinking that true love must be earned, it is necessary to overcome all the obstacles in the second act, before living happily and happily in the third. And if there are no obstacles, does this mean that something is missing? Do you really need drama to make the relationship work?
We have learned to imitate not only orgasms, but also happiness. Handsomely. Sincerely. Inimitable. Loud and gone.
Sometimes there is nothing harder than to rejoice in someone else's happiness.
The problem is not in the hips, but in the head.
Sometimes it's better to be alone than imitate something.
When sex is awesome, it is disorienting, and the person begins to imagine that the relationship is beautiful.
When a gorilla female is in love, she combs fleas from her chosen one all day long, but in humans it’s just the opposite: catching fleas can ruin even the strongest relationships.
It turned out that avoiding threesome sex is almost impossible, because even if you are alone in bed, there must have been someone before you.
Many romantic stories are more like a short story than an epic novel, but this does not mean that there was less love in them.
People are dying, computers are breaking down, relationships are falling apart and the best thing we can do is take a deep breath and reboot.
Even the best of relationships is always built on compromise. But how much can we sacrifice for the sake of another person, before we stop being ourselves? And where is the line beyond which compromises develop into self-destruction?
Maybe we are so spoiled by the freedom of choice that we can no longer make this very choice.