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Donna Rosa: When a man starts to touch you with words, he's not far off with his hands.
Beatrice Russo: There's nothing wrong with words.
Donna Rosa: Words are the worst things ever. I'd prefer a drunkard at the bar touching your bum to someone who says, "Your smile flies like a butterfly!"
Beatrice Russo: It spreads like a butterfly!
Donna Rosa: Flies, spreads, it's the same thing! Just look at you! One stroke of his finger, and you're on your back.
Beatrice Russo: You're wrong. He's a decent person.
Donna Rosa: When it comes to bed, there's no difference between a poet, a priest or even a communist!


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