Edward: This is ridiculous. You’re going to spend even more money on some experimental voodoo after we wasted a fortune on that silly opera. Mrs. Dickinson: Emily is sick. She can barely get out of bed. What if she has the measles? Or worse, spiritual measles? Edward: What the hell is that? Mrs. Dickinson: I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out.
Mrs. Dickinson: Get up, Emily. Emily: No, don’t make me go. Mrs. Dickinson: Today is going to be good for you. Emily: But I hate my life, and I truly want to die. Mrs. Dickinson: And that’s exactly why we need a spa day.