Truly Madly Deeply

Nina:
You're dead and you're still into party politics?

Nina:
I can't believe I have a bunch of dead people watching videos in my living room.

Nina:
My Feet will want to march to where you are sleeping, but I shall go on living.

Nina:
Your mother!

Jamie:
You think every cloud looks like my mother.

Nina:
This one really does look like your mother! Look: eyes, nose, eyebrows... brilliant!

Jamie:
My mother has not got a beard!

Mark:
Attempted suicide at the age of seventeen - can't remember why, I was sad about something.

Nina:
Parents alive, Gloucestershire, teachers. Him geography, her history. So holidays it would be "Dad, where are we? Mum, have we been here before?"

Jamie:
I blame the government.

Nina:
What?

Jamie:
The government.

Nina:
What's the government got to do with anything?

Jamie:
I hate the bastards.

Nina:
I love you.

Jamie:
I love you.

Nina:
I really love you.

Jamie:
I really, truly love you.

Nina:
I really, truly, madly love you.

Jamie:
I really, truly, madly, deeply love you.

Nina:
I really, truly, madly, deeply, passionately love you.

Jamie:
I really, truly, madly, deeply, passionately, remarkably love you.

Nina:
I really, truly, madly, deeply, passionately, remarkably, umm... deliciously love you.

Jamie:
I really, truly, madly, passionately, remarkably, deliciously... juicily love you.

Nina:
Deeply! Deeply! You passed on deeply, which was your word, which means you couldn't have meant it! So you're a fraud, that's it!

Nina:
You're probably a figment of my imagination...

Nina:
Juicily?

Jamie:
She wanted my cello, didn't she? Bloody cheek!

Jamie:
...But, the pain. Your pain. I couldn't bear that. There's a little girl I see from time to time - Alice, who's three. Well, three and a half. Oh, she's great. Everyone loves her, but she's not spoiled - Well, wasn't spoiled. She was knocked over and she died. Her parents, and family, and friends from kindergarten... She used to go to this playground. See, they made an area in the park. Gave 'em money for swings, and little wooden animals, and there are these plaques on the sides of the swing, bottom of the horse: 'From Alice's mom and dad. In Memory of Alice, who used to play here'. And of course, Alice goes back there all the time. And when you see the parents take their child from the swing, and see the sign... They hold on to their son and daughter, so tightly, clinging on for dear life. And yet... The capacity that people have to love... Where does it go?