Why should I sail with any of you? Four of you have tried to kill me in the past. One of you succeeded.
— Black harts, red spades? Come on, that's like cheating.
— Aa, experience has conditioned you, thinking that all harts are red, and all spades are black. Because their shapes are similar. It's easier for your mind to interpret them based on that passed experience. Then open to an idea that they can be different. We see what we expect to see. Not necessarily, what's really there. Children, who have never played cards, always pass this test. Makes you wonder how many other things are right in front of you, sight, sound, smell that you can't expirience, because you've been conditioned not to? If we'll do the test again you will pass. Once you are aware, that their can be black harts and red spades, you'll be able to parse them.
Maybe you're only alloted a certain amount of tears per man; and I've used mine up.
Ladies! Will you please shut it? Listen to me. Yes, I lied to you. No, I don't love you. Of course it makes you look fat. I've never been to Brussels. It is pronounced «egregious». By the way, no, I've never actually met Pizarro, but I love his pies. All of this pales to utter insignificance in light of the fact that my ship is once again gone. Savvy?
Memory, Agent Starling, is what I have instead of a view.
Woman know when a man looks into her eyes and sees someone else.
He's a born tactician. Every move he makes, it means something.
— Why is the rum gone?
— One, because it is a vile drink that turns even the most respectable men into complete scoundrels. Two, that signal is over a thousand feet high. The entire Royal Navy is out looking for me. Do you really think that there is even the slightest chance — that they won't see it?
— But why is the rum gone?
— You know why they put oxygen masks on planes?
— So you can breathe.
— Oxygen gets you high. In a catastrophic emergency, you take giant panic breaths. Suddenly you become euphoric, docile. You accept your fate. It's all right here. Emergency water landing, 600mph. Blank faces. Calm as hindu cows.
— That's um... That's an interesting theory.
— Who is this betrayer?
— Not likely anyone among us.
— Where's Will?
— Not among us.