Emily: I want to be famous.
Adelaide May: You do?
Emily: Well, sure, doesn’t everybody?
Adelaide May: Why do you want to be famous?
Emily: Because I’m a writer, and I write and write and write poem after poem, and then I stick it in a drawer and it just sits there in the dark where no light shines. I mean that isn’t enough, is it? Don’t they need to be seen? Don’t I need to be seen?
Adelaide May: I don’t know. If you’re seen, then you’re exposed. Everything that’s exposed, well, it goes stale.
Emily: Well, not everything.
Adelaide May: Yes, everything. The critics, they’ll put you on top for a minute, but then they’ll drag you down. They’ll get sick of you, and they’ll destroy you. They hate you, see, because you made them love you. You are a courtesan, and they fell for your trick.
Emily: Who cares what they say? Who cares what people think?
Adelaide May: Exactly, might as well stay in a room by yourself with no one watching.
Emily: How do you do it? How do you find the courage to sing in front of all these people?
Adelaide May: Well, I just pretend they’re not there.
Emily: But I was here tonight. I was here.
Adelaide May: Well, then I suppose I was singing for you.