M. Butterfly

Sometimes I hate you, sometimes I hate myself, but always I miss you

Tonight, I've finally learned to tell fantasy from reality. And, knowing the difference, I choose fantasy.

As soon as a Western man comes into contact with the East -- he's already confused. The West has sort of an international rape mentality towards the East. ...Basically, 'Her mouth says no, but her eyes say yes.' The West thinks of itself as masculine -- big guns, big industry, big money -- so the East is feminine -- weak, delicate, poor...but good at art, and full of inscrutable wisdom -- the feminine mystique. Her mouth says no, but her eyes say yes. The West believes the East, deep down, wants to be dominated -- because a woman can't think for herself. ...You expect Oriental countries to submit to your guns, and you expect Oriental women to be submissive to your men.

Consider it this way: what would you say if a blond homecoming queen fell in love with a short Japanese businessman? He treats her cruelly, then goes home for three years, during which time she prays to his picture and turns down marriage from a young Kennedy. Then, when she learns he has remarried, she kills herself. Now I believe you should consider this girl to be a deranged idiot, correct? But because it's an Oriental who kills herself for a Westerner–ah!–you find it beautiful.

Why, in the Peking Opera, are women's roles played by men?...Because only a man knows how a woman is supposed to act.

Now I see -- we are always most revolted by the things hidden within us.

It just hangs there. This little... flap of flesh. And there's so much fuss that we make about it. I think the reason we fight wars is because we wear clothes. Because no one knows–between the men, I mean–who has the bigger... weenie. So. if I’m a guy with a small one, I’m going to build a really big building or take over a really big piece of land or write a really long book so the other men don’t know, right? But see, it never really works, that's the problem. I mean, you conquer the country, or whatever, but you’re still wearing clothes, so there’s no way to prove absolutely whose is bigger or smaller. And that’s what we call a civilized society. The whole world run by a bunch of men with pricks the size of pins.

Gallimard: You have to do what I say! I'm conjuring you up in my mind! Song: Rene, I've never done what you've said. Why should it be any different in your mind?

Gallimard: It's... a pure sacrifice. He's unworthy, but what can she do? She loves him... so much. It's a very beautiful story. Song: Well, yes, to a Westerner. Gallimard: Exuse me? Song: It's one of your favotite fantasies, isn't it? The submissive Oriental woman and the cruel white man.

Judge: But why would that make it possible for you to fool Monsieur Gallimard? Please--get to the point. Song: One, because when he finally met his fantasy woman, he wanted more than anything to believe that she was, in fact, a woman. And second, I am an Oriental. And being an Oriental, I could never be completely a man.

For the myths of the East, the myths of the West, the myths of men, and the myths of women—these have so saturated our consciousness that truthful contact between nations and lovers can only be the result of heroic effort.

Only a man knows how a woman is supposed to act

Don't forget: there is no homosexuality in China!

We must conserve our strengths for the battles we can win.

And you wonder, what's wrong with me? Will anyone beautiful want me?

This is the ultimate cruelty, isn't it? That I can talk and talk and to anyone listening, it's only air--too rich a diet to be swallowed by a mundane world.

Death with honor is better than life... life with dishonor.

But is it possible for a woman to be too uninhibited, too willing, so as to seem almost too... masculine?

Happiness is so rare that our mind can turn somersaults to protect it.

Well, there's no guarantee of failure in life like happiness in high school.