— You're not a stalker or anything, right?
— I'm not a stalker. You're the one that talked to me. Remember?
— That is the oldest trick in the stalker book.
— Really? There's a stalker book? Okay. I gotta read that one.
So what if you take me somewhere else, somewhere where I don't belong, and we hide there till morning?
— You don't tell me things, Joel. I'm an open book. I tell you everything. Every damn embarrassing thing. You don't trust me.
— You don't have to be afraid of silence, Clementine. Constantly talking isn't necessarily communicating.
— I don't do that. I want to know you. I don't constantly talk. Jesus. People have to share things. That's what intimacy is. I'm really pissed that you said that to me.
— I'm sorry. I just don't have anything very interesting about my life.
— I don't know. Just wait. Just wait.
— What do you want, Joel?
— I don't know. I want you to wait for... just a while.
If you wanna be with me, you're with me.
— I'm not a concept, Joel. I'm just a fucked-up girl who is looking for my own peace of mind. I'm not perfect.
— I can't think of anything I don't like about you right now.
— But you will. You will think of things. And I'll get bored with you and feel trapped because that's what happens with me.
— What took you so long?
— I just walked in.
— Hmmm. Do you miss me?
— Oddly enough, I do.
— Ha Ha! You said, "I do." I guess that means we're married.
— I guess so.
I really like that you're nice right now. I mean, I can't tell from one moment to the next what I'm gonna like, but right now... I'm glad you are.