Once we know the number one, we believe that we know the number two, because one plus one equals two. We forget that first we must know the meaning of plus.
[talking to Anna about Bob Marley]
He had this idea. It was kind of a virologist idea. He believed that you could cure racism and hate… literally cure it, by injecting music and love into people’s lives. When he was scheduled to perform at a peace rally, a gunman came to his house and shot him down. Two days later he walked out on that stage and sang. When they asked him why – He said, ”The people, who were trying to make this world worse… are not taking a day off. How can I? Light up the darkness.”
What about me? Am I your friend? Or am I just some… some widget to help you make Sylvia feel better about herself? Why did you invite me to be part of your book club? No, what went through your mind the first time you saw me? ”There’s a man who is *dying* to read every book Jane Austen ever wrote.” Is that what you thought?
But I thought, ”What a beautiful woman. I hope she looks over at me.” I thought if I read your favorite books that you would read mine. But no… no, no. You just want to be obeyed. That’s why you have dogs.
Need a hug?
We’re not a hugging family.
Difficult, not impossible.
All more proof you’re insane.
Why do you look so impressed?
Why, Mr. Anderson? Why, why? Why do you do it? Why, why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you’re fighting… for something? For more than your survival? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it freedom? Or truth? Perhaps peace? Could it be for love? Illusions, Mr. Anderson. Vagaries of perception. Temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose. And all of them as artificial as the Matrix itself, although… only a human mind could invent something as insipid as love. You must be able to see it, Mr. Anderson. You must know it by now. You can’t win. It’s pointless to keep fighting. Why, Mr. Anderson? Why? Why do you persist?
Because I choose to.
My fear is that I’m gonna put you in a bikini and you’ll still look like a fucking bank teller.
My teacher tells me beauty is on the inside.
That’s just something ugly people say.