1.about the painting
WILL: The sky's fallin' on your head. The waves are crashin' over your little boat.The oars are about to snap. You just piss in your pants. You're cryin' for the harbor. So maybe you do what you gotta do to get out. You know, maybe you became a psychologist.
Maybe you are in a storm. The sky is dim, the waves hit the boat, and the oars are about to break. You are terrified and you desperately need a port. This is why you become a psychologist.
SEAN: Bingo. That's it. Let me do my job now. You start with me. Come on. That's it
. Let me do something, you are hindering me.
2.treatment treatment
SEAN:. Stayed up half the night thinkin 'about it Something occurred to me I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep, and I have not thought about you since You know what occurred to me..?
In sleep After thinking about it in the middle of the night, I suddenly remembered something, and then fell asleep. Do you know what I was thinking of?
SEAN: You're just a kid. You don't have the faintest idea of what you're talkin' about
.
SEAN: So, if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny of Every art book ever written. Michelangelo. You know a lot about him: life's work, political aspirations, him and the Pope, sexual orientation, the whole works, right? But I bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at the beautiful ceiling, seen that.
So if I ask you about art, you might You will come up with the rough arguments in art books. You know a lot about Michelangelo, his political ambitions, his and the Pope... aptitude, all the works, right? So I bet you can’t tell the smell of the Sistine Chapel. You’ve never really stood there, looking up and admiring its beautiful ceiling.
SEAN: If I ask you about women, you'll probably give me a syllabus of your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what if feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid.
If you ask a woman, you will probably say the fallacy of personal preference. You may have been in bed several times, but you can’t tell how it feels to wake up next to a woman. It is the taste of true happiness.
And I ask you about war, you'd probably, uh, throw Shakespeare at me, right?"once more unto the breach, dear friends..." But you've never bee near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, and watched him gasp his last breath, lookin' to your for help.
If you ask about war, you will probably throw out Shakespeare’s famous saying: "Go to the battlefield together, dear friend..." He has never been close to war, never hugged his friend's head on his knees, and watched him breathe out his last breath.
I ask you about love, you'll probably quote me s sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable, known someone that could level you with her eyes, feelin' like God put and angel on earth just for you,who could rescue you from the depths of hell, and you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anyghin, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sittin' up in a hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss,'cause that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself.
If you ask about love, you will quote a sonnet, but you have never become vulnerable because you see a woman, knowing that someone can knock you down with both eyes, she is an angel God arranged for you, and she can be rescued from hell You, you don't understand what it's like to be her angel, and have love for her forever. Experience all this, experience cancer. You can’t experience sleeping in the hospital for two months, because the doctor knows as soon as he sees you that the rule of meeting time is invalid for you. You don't understand true loss, because you can only experience it when you love others more than yourself.
I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. I look at you. I don't see an intelligent, confident man. I see a cocky, scared-shitless kid. But you're a genius, Will. No one denies that. No one could possible understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me, because you saw a painting of mine. You ripped my fuckin' life apart. You're an orphan, right? Do you think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been? How you feel? Who you are? Because I read Oliver TWist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally, I don't give a shit about all that. Because you know what? I can't learn anything from you I can't read in some fuckin' book. Unless, you wanna talk about you, who you are. Then I'm fasci ated. I'm in. But you don't want to do that, do you, sport? You're terrified of what you might say.
But I doubt you dare to love someone like that. Looking at you, I don’t see smart and confident, I see frightened arrogant children, but you are a genius, no one can deny, no one can understand your depth, but when you look at my paintings, you will recognize me as you Tore my life apart. You are a kid, right? Do you think I will know how hard your life is, how you feel, who you are, is it because I have seen orphan tears? Does that simplify you? I don't care because you know what? I can’t get to know you by any books, unless you talk about yourself and who you are, then I’m fascinated. I’m willing to join, but you don’t want to do that, do you? You are afraid of what you might say.
3.about Sean's wife
SEAN: Oh, Christ. But, Will, she's been dead two years, and that's the shit I remember. It's wonderful stuff, you know? Little things like that. Ah, but, those are the things I miss the most. The little idiosyncracies that only I knew about. That's what made her my wife. Oh, and she had the goods on me too. She knew all my little peccadilloes. People call these things imperfections. But they're not. Ah……that's the good stuff. And then we get to choose who we let our weird worlds. You're not perfect, sport. And let me save you the suspense. This girl you met, she isn't perfect either. But the question is whether or not you're perfect for each other. That's the whole deal. That's what intimacy is all about. Now, you can know everything in the world, sport, but the only way you're findin'out that one is by givin' it a shot. You certainly won't learn it from an old fucker like me. Even if I did know, I wouldn't tell a pissant like you.
My wife had a problem when she was alive, she fart when she was nervous. One night my wife farted and woke up all the dogs in the house, and later she woke up, and she turned around and asked me, "Is it you?" I said, "Yes, my dear, it's me."
"Yes ." , And she always thought it was me. My God, she passed away two years ago, and that’s something I remember. Little things like that are amazing, and that’s what I miss the most. These little features make her my wife. She I also know all my small flaws, which people call imperfect. In fact, it is not a good thing, who can choose who to enter our world. You are not perfect, I do not appetite you, and the girls you know I’m not perfect. The question is whether you’re perfectly suitable. Intimacy is one thing. You can know about the world, but the way to discover is to try. You can’t learn from my bad old man, even if I know I don’t. Tell you."
4. National Security Agency
WILL: Oh, com'on, I mean, that is what you do. You guys handle 80 percent of the intelligence workload. You're seven times the size of the CIA.
Oh, that's your business. You control 80% of the intelligence work, and you are seven times the size of the CIA.
NSA: We do not like to brag about that, Will So, the way I see it, the question is not Why SHOULD you work for the NSA The question is:.?? Why should not you
we're not brag about those of. Will, in my opinion, the question is not why you should work for the National Security Agency, but why not?
WILL: Why shouldn't I work for the NSA? That's a tough one. But I'll take a shot. Say I'm working at the NSA, and somebody puts a code on my desk, somethin' no one else can break . Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, cus' I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in...
WILL:...North Africa or the Middle East and once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels are hiding... Fifteen hundred people that I never met, never had no problem with get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Oh, Send inthe marines to secure the area" cus' they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number got called , cus' they were off pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some kid from Southie over there takin' shrapnel in the ass. He comes back to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, cus' he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks.Meanwhile he realizes the only reason he was over there in the first place was so that we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the little skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices . A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. They're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, of course, maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and fuckin' play slalom with the icebergs, it ain't too long'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So now my buddy's out of work. He can 't afford to drive, so he's walking to the fuckin' job interviews, which sucks because the shrapnel in his ass is givin'him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starvin' cus' every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what did I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. I figure fuck it, while I'm at it why not just shoot my buddy, take his job, give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected President.take his job, give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected President.take his job, give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected President.
Why don't I work for the National Security Bureau? This is a difficult question. Let me think about it. If I do, the National Security Bureau will give me some passwords that others cannot crack. Maybe I tried and cracked it. I am satisfied because it performed well. But maybe that code is officially the base of a rebel base...in North Africa or the Middle East. When you find out, you will bomb the rebel hiding place, and 1,500 strangers will die as a result. Then, the politicians sent special forces to defend the area. They didn't care, because it was not their children who were shot. Because they all joined the reserve force; and the children in the southern district who were shot over there found that the factory they used to work in had moved to the country where he went to fight, and the enemy who killed him took his job—— Because he only needs one yuan a day's salary. Finally, he discovered that he would go to the battlefield to get cheap crude oil from the country so that oil companies could use war panic to raise domestic oil prices and make a small profit. However, two and five gallons have an ass. They have to take the time to transport the oil back to the country. Maybe he also hired a drunk captain, he loves to drink martinis and play skiing with icebergs. Soon he crashed into the iceberg, the crude oil leaked, and killed all the marine life in the North Atlantic. Now my friend is unemployed and can't drive a car. He walks to the interview and feels uncomfortable because the shell fragments make him chronically bleeding. He is also very hungry, because every time he eats, the only special meal is North Atlantic cod. So, what do you think I would think? I have a better idea. Dry! I simply kill my friends, give my job to the enemy, raise gas prices, bomb villages, hunt baby seals, smoke marijuana, and join the reserve force. Depend on! I can also be elected president!
5. soul mate
SEAN: Do you have a soul mate? Do you have a soul mate?
WILL: Do I ha...? Define that. I have...? make it clear.
SEAN: Somebody who challenges you. Somebody who challenges you.
WILL: I have Chuckie. I have Chuckie.
SEAN: No, Chuckie's family. He'd lie down in fuckin' traffic for you. No, I'm talkin' about someone who opens up things for you, touches your soul. No, Chuckie is your family, I said It is the one who touches your heart.
WILL: I got-I got... I got...
SEAN: Who? Who?
WILL: I got plenty. There are many.
SEAN: Well, name them. Say their names.
WILL: Shakespeare, Nietzsche, Frost, O'Connor, Kant, Pope, Locke. Shakespeare, Nietzsche, Foster, O'Connor, Kant, Locke.
SEAN: That's great. They're all dead.
WILL: Not to me, they're not. To me, they're not dead.
SEAN: No, You don't have a lot of dialogue with them. You can't give back to them, Will. No, it's dead. You cannot talk to them, you cannot respond to them.
WILL: No, not without some serious smelling salts and a heater.
SEAN: Yeah. Well, that's what I'm saying. You'll never have that kind of relationship in a world where you're always afraid to take the first step because all you see is every negative thing ten miles down the road.
Yes, that's what I said. If you don't take the first step, you will never have that kind of relationship. Because your focus is only on the negative things that will only happen for a long time.
6.Chuckie
CHUCKIE: It's a way outta here. If you
don't, you can leave here.
WILL: What do I want a way outta here for I want to live here the rest of my life I want to be your next-door neighbor I want to take out kids to little league together up Foley Field?...
Why did you leave ? I want to live here forever. Be your neighbor and take our son to play baseball together.
CHUCKIE: Look, you're my best friend, so don't take this the wrong way, but in 20 years, if you're livin' next door to me, comin' over watchin' the Patriots' games and still workin' construction, I'll kill you. And that's not a threat, that's a fact. I'll kill you.
Listen, you are my best friend, this will not change. But if you still live here 20 years from now, watch a football game at my house, and build a house, I will fucking kill you. That is not a threat, I will kill you.
WILL: Chuckie, what are you talkin'... What are you talking
nonsense?
CHUCKIE: Listen, you got somethin' that none of us have.
Listen, you have a talent that none of us have .
WILL: Why is it always this? I owe it to myself? What if I don't want to?
Please, why does everyone say that? Did I fail myself? What if I didn’t want to have it myself?
CHUCKIE: Fuck you. You owe it to me. Tomorrow I'm gonna wake up and I'll be fifty and I'll still be doin' this. And that's all right'cause I'm gonna make a run at it. But you, you're sittin' on a winning lottery ticket and you're too much of a pussy to cash it in. And that's bullshit'cause I'd do anything to have what you got! And so would any of these guys . It'd be a insult to us if you're still here in twenty years.
No... you didn't sorry for yourself, it was you who sorry for me. Because I will wake up at fifty years old tomorrow and still do this kind of thing, it doesn’t matter, and you already have a million tickets, but you don’t dare to cash it, shit. I will do whatever it takes to exchange what you have, as will these other people. You are insulting us by staying for another 20 years, and staying here is a waste of your time.
WILL: You don't know that. You don't know that
.
CHUCKIE: Let me tell you what I do know. Every day I come by to pick you up, and we go out drinkin' or whatever and we have a few laughs. But you know what the best part of my day is? The ten seconds before I knock on the door'cause I let myself think I might get there, and you'd be gone. I'd knock on the door and you wouldn't be there. You just left.
CHUCKIE (cont'd) : Now, I don't know much. But I know that.
I tell you what I know. I pick you up at your house every day, and we go out to drink and laugh, that’s great. But the best moment of my day is only ten seconds, from parking to your door, every time I knock on the door, I hope you are gone. Don't say goodbye, there is nothing, and you are gone.
I don't know much, but I know this very well.
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