Jon Burroughs: He said I was cherishable, and he picked me to join the band.
Clara: You are fingers being told which keys to push.
Jon Burroughs: I push my own keys.
Clara: Ten little bits of bone and skin.
Jon Burroughs: And I'm perfectly capable of going to my furthest corners and composing music.
Clara: Your furthest corners?
Jon Burroughs: My furthest corners.
Clara: Someone needs to punch you in the face.
Frank: We'll have many productive seasons here.
Frank: Lips pursed together as if to say "Enough frivolity" - today, we begin work on the album in earnest.
Jon Burroughs: Miserable childhood. Mental illness. Where do I find that kind of inspiration?
Clara: You are a mediocre child.
Don: You play C, F and G?
Jon Burroughs: Yeah.
Don: You're in.
Frank: We were in the forest like secret squirrels, and now we're likable! We're - we're so like... nnnnng... hmmm... it's gonna be huge! Jon fixed everything! You gotta come see us tomorrow night, I promise nothing bad'll happen to you.
Clara: Let's go take a walk.
Frank: I'm incredibly happy to be here! I'm fine! I'm relaxed.
Jon Burroughs: Wow, this is beautiful. What do you call it?
Clara: Stay away from my fucking theremin.
