Listen, Legs, I’m going to die anyway. I’m human. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t believe in visions of the future. I believe we choose our own destiny. You didn’t give me...

You look beautiful and tragic, just the way a heroine should on the eve of battle. Like Joan of Arc in her silver armor.

No one’s happy here, you know that. But I am content, and maybe that’s enough for me.