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"You will become not who you think I want you to be. But you will be yourself. Now, how do you feel about it here?"
"It's the worst. I hate the country. I hate the grass and the mosquitos. And cooking--. Your cooking is terrible. Your pancakes--. I dump them in the garbage when you're not looking. And the jokes you try and tell when you think you're amusing are long and pointless. There's no end to them."
"And what else?"
"I want to go to bed with you."
"Well, that surprises me. I didn't think you liked me very much."
"I love you. You're very sweet. Because you're not as clever as you think you are. You're all mixed up and nervous, and you're the worst cook. Those pancakes. I love you. I want to take care of you. No more pancakes. "