Camilla Traynor: Well... This is Louisa Clark. Nathan will talk you through his equipment.
Will Traynor: I'm here, Mother. You don't have to talk across me. My brain isn't paralyzed. Yet.
Will Traynor: You don't get it Clark. I want to be in Paris as me. The old me. With pretty French girls giving me the eye.
Lou Clark: Could be something to look forward to.
Will Traynor: If I shut my eyes now, I know exactly how it feels to be in that little square. I remember every sensation. I don't want those memories erased by the stuggle to fit behind a table, the taxi drivers who refuse to take me, and my wheelchair power pack that won't charge in a French socket.
Philip: Yesterday, you seemed all down in the dumps.
Louise: I'm amazed you noticed.
Philip: We all did. I'm surprised the Pascoe girls didn't remark on it.
Louise: Well, the Pascoe girls were probably far to busy remarking on something else.
Louise: How easy it must be for a woman like your cousin Rachel to twist you around her little finger.
Philip: I believe in nothing of what you've told me. I believe had I been here my cousin would still be alive. And I believe, whatever it cost him, in pain and suffering before he died, I will return with full measure upon a woman that caused it.
Tom Buckley: Film, Mrs Cole. Real life with the boring bits cut out. Don't confuse facts with truth, and, for Christ's sake, don't let either of them get in the way of the story.
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