Identificazione di una donna

What a funeral of honor.
- Where shall I put them?
- You take them, Romolo.

Excuse me, what will I do with them?
Listen, give them to that gentleman on the
floor below, see how pleased he will be.

What do you know...
Damn that whore and these flowers.

Did you ever happen to hate someone?
No, no.
I'm afraid of real hatred.
Is it the same girl... of the riding ground?
It is not her I hate.
It's the one who sent me the chrysanthemums.
He must know it's all over, and still he continues.
Among the many things I believe in,
there is also hate.

But there's a little too much of it in him...
and he unloads it onto me.

- Excuse me.
- It is I who should excuse myself.

I don't succeed in...being enough for you.
Don't even think that.
It is I who feel impotent! Damn misery!