Chuck: God only knows what that woman is capable of.
Grace: You know she's not capable of anything.
The Big Man: Rapists and murders may be the victims according to you, but I, I call them dogs. And if they're lapping up their own vomit, the only way to stop them is with a lash.
Grace: But dogs only obey their own nature, so why shouldn't we forgive them?
The Big Man: Dogs can be taught many useful things, but not if we forgive them every time they obey their own nature.
Grace: I think we've talked long enough about the things we remember seeing.
Grace: All I see is a beautiful little town in the midst of magnificent mountains. A place where people have hopes and dreams even under the hardest conditions.
Narrator: It was as if the light, previously so merciful and faint, finally refused to cover up for the town any longer. Suddenly you could no longer imagine a berry that would appear one day on a gooseberry bush, but only see the thorn that was there right now. The light now penetrated every unevenness and floor in the buildings and... in the people.
Tom: Two people only hurt each other if they doubt the love they have for one another.
Grace: But I've got nothing to offer them in return.
Tom: Oh, I think you have plenty to offer Dogville.
Grace: Some things you have to do yourself.
Narrator: And then it was as if Dogville just waited. Even the wind dropped, leaving the town in an unfamiliar calm. As if somebody had put a large cheese dish cover over it, and created the kind of quietness that descends while you're awaiting visitors.
