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[first lines]
Quoyle: [father teaching him literally to sink or swim]
[voice-over]
Quoyle: I used to imagine that I'd been given to the wrong family at birth, and that somewhere in the world my real people longed for me. From where my father stood, my failure to dog-paddle was only the first of many failures. Failure to speak clearly, failure to sit up straight, failure to make friends every time we moved to another dreary upstate town. In me, my father recognized a failed life. His own.
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Petal Bear: Look, it's no good. Find yourself a girlfriend.
Quoyle: I don't want a girlfriend, I want you.
Petal Bear: [shrugs] Your funeral.
Extended Reading
