You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You're chicken. You've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, "Okay, life's a fact." People do fall in love. People do belong to each other because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness. You call yourself a free spirit, a wild thing. And you're terrified somebody's going to stick you in a cage. Well, baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas or in the east by Somaliland. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.
I like you... again. There. You win. You can do your victory dance or slaughter a goat, or whatever it is you do when you're happy.
— Hey, Uncle Scar. When I'm king, what'll that make you?
— A monkey's uncle.
Did we just slip into some alternate dimension where I give a flying duckie about what you say and do?
Everyone, this is my sister, Paige. I'd like you to meet random people I don't care about.
Because you are a character doesn't mean that you have character.
If you can fake sincerity, you can fake pretty much anything.