We are the music makers… and we are the dreamers of dreams.
Someday? Someday my dream will come? One night you will wake up and discover it never happened. It’s all turned around on you. It never will. Suddenly you are old. Didn’t happen, and it never will, because you were never going to do it anyway. You’ll push it into memory and then zone out in your barco lounger, being hypnotized by daytime TV for the rest of your life.
Yeah, but not like Nancy. She was a lovely thing. I used to lay in bed at night and watch her sleep. Once in a while she would wake up and catch me. She would let out a scream.
You owe me a scream.
AAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! [Splat!]
“Come on, get up,” you say, “Time to start another day.”
Well, what if there is no tomorrow? There wasn’t one today.
Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are, not a perfect soldier, but a good man
I’m not even supposed to be here today.
Well the problem is, Rob, if you and I weren’t here, this conversation never happened, so I can’t remember what the fuck you didn’t tell me.
There’s one thing I don’t understand. The thing I don’t understand is every motherfuckin’ word you’re saying.
ENGLISH, motherfucker! DO YOU SPEAK IT?!
Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?
You hear me, you two-faced faggot?
No, no. Fuck you, fuckball!
Nice! Nice manners, babe!
My puppy found the chainsaw.
So that was Mrs. Lundegaard on the floor in there. And I guess that was your accomplice in the wood chipper.
Which brings me to my next question: how does it feel to be a genius?
You watch your mouth, smart guy! Let him do his own fighting.