Allen: That's quite a lovely Jackson Pollock, isn't it? Museum Girl: Yes, it is. Allen: What does it say to you? Museum Girl: It restates the negativeness of the universe. The hideous lonely emptiness of existence. Nothingness. The predicament of Man forced to live in a barren, Godless eternity like a tiny flame flickering in an immense void with nothing but waste, horror and degradation, forming a useless bleak straitjacket in a black absurd cosmos. Allen: What are you doing Saturday night? Museum Girl: Committing suicide. Allen: What about Friday night?