Lorelai: Wait, close your eyes and breathe. I smell snow.
Rory: Ah, it's that time of year.
Lorelai: Can't you smell it?
Rory: You know, it's like dogs and high-pitched noises. I think it's something only you can smell.
(Rory sits down next to Lorelai and pulls a blanket over the both of them)
Lorelai: I love snow.
Rory: Really, I had no idea.
Lorelai: Everything's magical when it snows, everything looks pretty. The clothes are great. Coats, scarves, gloves, hats.
Rory: Thermal underwear, wool socks, ear flaps.
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(Lorelai's message machine)
Max: Lorelai, it's Max. Medina, Max Medina. And once again we miss each other. It's now 2:00 in the afternoon on Thursday, and I'm in my office grading a paper entitled: Emily Dickinson, Get a Life. Anyhow, as I sit here, losing my faith in mankind, I wonder if we're ever gonna actually go on that date we talked about many moons ago. I teach a night class in Stamford twice a week, and when I pass that Stars Hollow sign on the turnpike, I think: "Out there is a beautiful woman that I someday hope to spend time with." Anyhow, I'm just thinking about you. I don't know, maybe next week we can find some time. Bye, Lorelai...Gilmore. You knew that. Okay, bye.
- Permalink: Out there is a beautiful woman that I someday hope to spend time...
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