miércoles, septiembre 4

Henry y Lucy


  • Henry: I've spent my whole life... wanting something... and doing my very best not to find it. Never even going near the places it might be... And suddenly, I've got the goddamn thing practically chained around my neck.
  • Lucy: What are you talking about?
  • Henry: You. You. You're the, you're the... You're, you're- you're the goddamn thing. Ahhh, uh. I mean... You're, you're. I can't describe you... uhh, I don't, I don't write that kind of shit, I write... You know, the people who write, who write the real books, the love books, and the poems, and even those stupid little fucking novels with the hunky assholes on the cover...
  • Lucy: Stop...
  • Henry: You know it? You know what I'm talking about? You know - you're like Princess shit! You know? Fairytales. You know what I'm saying? The million guys are after and you're blinded by your beauty kind of shit. Real big stuff. You know, that just - even, we got the dick that kidnaps you and sticks you in a cave and you're guarded by a five-headed dragon, you know and the tales of your plight are spread throughout the land and all the guys go and put on their shoes so they can see what's up and none of them have the balls to save her except for me. I would go through anything... for you. And still, there I was looking for a way not to see it. Anything.