Olympias: You are everything Phillip was not. He was coarse, you are refined. He was a general, you are a king. He could not rule himself. And you shall rule the world.
Olympias: I was never a barbarian as Phillip said. We are of Achilles' royal blood.
Olympias: The world is yours. Take it.
Alexander: You birthed me in a sack of hate! Hate you have for those stronger than you.
Olympias: I taught you my heart! And by Zeus and Dionysus you grew beautiful.
Alexander: Damn your sorceress soul.
Olympias: Your soul is mine, Alexander.
Alexander: No! You've taken from me everything I've ever loved! You've made me you.
Olympias: Stop it! Stop acting like a boy! You're a king, act like one.
Olympias: My little Achilles.
Sarah Jordan: Perhaps we are all refugees from something, but I see now there is nothing to fear, that the world we hold onto, the lives we cherish, are a part of something greater, something more. When I look at my children I see it so, that hope, that chance of life, and I know it's worth fighting for.
Vanessa: Do you see that fisherman? He goes out every day, comes back every night. Hardly catches any fish. What keeps him from going insane? From being so tired of it all? What is it we don't know?
Vanessa: Now my outsides match my insides.
Christine Collins: Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.
Christine Collins: The boy they brought back is not my son.
Christine Collins: I used to tell Walter, "Never start a fight... But always finish it." I didn't start this fight... But by God, I'm going to finish it.
Christine Collins: He's not my son.
Capt. J.J. Jones: Mrs. Collins...
Christine Collins: No, I don't know why he's saying that he is, but he's not Walter and there's been a mistake.
Capt. J.J. Jones: I thought we agreed to give him time to adjust.
Christine Collins: He's three inches shorter; I measured him on the chart.
Capt. J.J. Jones: Well, maybe your measurements are off. Look, I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for all of this.
Christine Collins: He's circumcised and Walter isn't.
Capt. J.J. Jones: Mrs. Collins, your son was missing for five months, for at least part of that time in the company of an unidentified drifter. Who knows what such a disturbed individual might have done. He could have had him circumcised. He could have...
Christine Collins: ...made him shorter?
Gia Carangi: Where are you going?
Linda: You don't have any clothes on.
Gia Carangi: Don't change the subject.
Gia Carangi: I have to go back to work! I know what you're going to say but I need the money because I cannot live like this. I cannot live like this. And I cannot live without you.
Gia Carangi: Go see, go see, go see. I aint good at this. And even if you are good at this, what exactly are you good at?
Gia Carangi: Where's my knife? Who took my fucking knife? What do I look like, fucking terrorist? Is this funny? What the fuck is wrong with you people? Where the fuck - get the fuck away from me! GET away! where is MY knife? God, you can't... you can't do that! You don't take somebody's knife when they need it.
Gia Carangi: I could learn photography. That could be something to want. I could photograph children. I could have my own children. I would give them yellow roses. And if they got too loud, I would just put them some place quiet. Put them in the oven. And I would kiss them every day, and tell them you don't have to be anybody, because I would know that being somebody doesn't make you anybody anyway.
Wilhemina Cooper: You will always be somebody to me.
Gia Carangi: Look, this was a free trip to New York. If I had known you were looking for Marcia fucking Brady, I woulda stayed home.
Linda: I'm checking to see if you need to be tweezed.
Gia Carangi: I'm tweezed.
Linda: I'm Linda.
Gia Carangi: Well somebody has to take care of me! I'm just a kid.
T.J.: Bullshit.
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