- Young Man: I hurried to my bakery, taking special care with my entries, my slowness, my idiosyncrasies.
- Young Man: Here I could eat without being seen by Sylvie, who, in the crowded market might appear unexpectedly. Besides, buying a pastry had become a ritual between me and the girl at the bakery.
- Young Man: The market offered variety, coolness, and the compelling argument of food. My stomach tempted me. Weary of cafeterias and anticipating vacation, it craved the gastronomic interlude that cherry season offered. The smells and sounds of the market, after so many hours of books and lecture notes, were more relaxing than the club and its mess-hall orders.
- Young Man: Come on. Isn't the boss here?
- Jacqueline: She's making dinner.
- Young Man: So what are you afraid of?
- Young Man: It didn't take long to see the pretty bakery girl liked me. Call it vanity if you will, but the fact that a girl liked me seemed natural. And since she wasn't really my type, and Sylvie alone, so superior, held my thoughts. Yes, it was because I was thinking of Sylvie that I accepted the advances, which is what they were, of the bakery girl, in a much better spirit than if I had not loved another.
- Young Man: At my age, you hate nothing more than shopping. I like to enter a shop with the air of someone going in for the first time. Yet I'm pleased when the salesgirl guesses my game and plays along.
- Young Man: What upset me was not that she liked me, but that she'd think there was any way I would like her.
- Young Man: I could have put Sylvie off a day and kept my date with my bakery girl. But my choice had been above all, a moral one.