"Even Your Depression is Mathematical"

Robert: Bullshit. Those days are lost. You threw them away. And you'll never know what else you threw away with them - the work you lost, the ideas you didn't have, discoveries you never made because you were moping in your bed at four in the afternoon. You know I'm right.

Catherine: I've lost a few days.

Robert: How many?

Catherine: Oh, I don't know.

Robert: I bet you do.

Catherine: What?

Robert: I bet you count.

Catherine: Knock it off.

Robert: Well do you know or don't you?

Catherine: I don't.

Robert: Of course you do. How many days have you lost?

Catherine: A month. Around a month.

Robert: Exactly.

Catherine: Goddamn it, I don't-

Robert: How many?

Catherine: Thirty-three days.

Robert: Exactly?

Catherine: I don't know.

Robert: Be precise, for Chrissake.

Catherine: I slept till noon today.

Robert: Call it thirty-three and a quarter days.

Catherine: Yes, all right.

Robert: You're kidding?

Catherine: No.

Robert: Amazing number!

Catherine: It's a depressing fucking number.

Robert: Catherine, if every fucking day you say you've lost were a year, it would be a very interesting fucking number.

Catherine: Thirty-three and a quarter years is not interesting.

Robert: Stop it. You know exactly what I mean.

Catherine: (Conceding) 1729 weeks.

Robert: 1729. Great number. The smallest number expressible-

Catherine: -expressible as the sum of two cubes in two different ways.

Robert: 12 cubed plus 1 cubed equals 1729.

Catherine: And 10 cubed plus 9 cubed. Yes, we've got it, thank you.

Robert: You see? Even your depression is mathematical.

Proof
David Auburn