Mod Girlfriend: So what are ya, mod or a rocker?
Brian Slade: I'm six of one, half a dozen of the other, really.
Curt Wild: Make a wish, and see yourself on stage, inside out, a tangle of garlands in your hair. Course, you are pleasantly surprised.
Malcolm: I don't believe that there is much of a future to speak of.
Pearl: We're in a bit of a decadent spiral, aren't we?
Billy: Sinking fast.
Ray: Big Brother, baby, all the way.
Malcolm: Which is why we prefer impressions to ideas.
Billy: Situations to subjects.
Pearl: Brief flights to sustained ones.
Ray: Exceptions to types.
Pearl: And yourself?
Arthur Stuart: What? I'm... I'm just lookin' for a room at the moment.
Curt Wild: Listen, a real artist creates beautiful things and puts nothing of his own life into them, OK?
Reporter: Uh, Brian! Why the make-up?
Brian Slade: Why? Because rock and roll's a prostitute. It should be tarted up. Performed. The music is the mask, while I, in my chiffon and taff - well - varda the message.
Mandy Slade: For the first time in Brian's life, he was simply telling it like it was. Did he realise what he'd actually done? How could he have? I mean, today there'd be fighting in the streets, but in 1972, it was more like dancing.
Brian Slade: I should think that if people were to get the wrong impression of me, the one to which you so eloquently referred, it wouldn't be the wrong impression in the slightest.
Reporter: Tell us, Brian, are the rumors true when they say you and Curt Wild have some sort of plans up your sleeve?
Brian Slade: Oh, yes. Quite soon we actually plan to take over the world.
Curt Wild: The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history.