— Happy or sad?
— Sad.
— Okay, but I warn you; I'll break your heart.
— Already broken.
— You think I am a whore?
— Everyone's a whore, Grace. We just sell different parts of ourselves.
— I love you.
— And there it goes, Grace. Away it goes...
You have your mother’s common sense but your father’s devilment. I see them fighting. Let your mother win.
You must not let your personal history cloud your judgement.
In pubs sometimes people say things and sometimes it’s the whisky talking. It’s hard to tell which is which.
One thing I have learned is that you and I are opposites, but also just the same. Like an image in a mirror. We hate people. And they in turn hate us. And fear us. Before the day is over, your heart will be broken just the same as mine. Men like us, Mr Shelby, will always be alone. And that love we get we will have to pay for.
— You know, there are days <...> that I really wish I'd let you take that bullet in France.
— Believe me, there are nights I wish you had.
— So I'd be solving a problem for you.
— And I'd be winning you that medal.
— If I get a medal, I will have your initials engraved on my backside.
— Oh. My initials on your backside. That's quite an image.