If you can dream-and not make dreams your master;
If you can think-and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
— Would you just talk about something? I don't know. Anything. Just talk. Tell me about my son.
— He's about my height. He has your eyes. What's he like? You trust him. He's got a strength. I'd die for John Connor.
— Well, at least now I know what to name him. Don't suppose you know who the father is so I won't tell him to get lost?
— John never said much about him. I know he dies before the war...
— Wait. I don't wanna know. So was it John that sent you here?
— I volunteered. It was a chance to meet the legend. Sarah Connor, who taught her son to fight, organize, prepare from when he was a kid. When you were in hiding before the war.
— You're talking about things I haven't done yet in the past tense. It's driving me crazy. Are you sure you have the right person? Come on. Do I look like the mother of the future? I mean, am I tough? Organized? I can't even balance my checkbook. Look, Reese, I didn't ask for this honor and I don't want it. Any of it.
— Your son gave me a message to give to you. Made me memorize it. «Thank you, Sarah, for your courage through the dark years. I can't help you with what you must soon face, except to say the future is not set. You must be stronger than you imagine you can be. You must survive or I will never exist». That's all.