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[Jonathan and Fletcher escape being killed by an angry mob of seagulls] Fletcher: They wanted to kill us! How did we get away? Jonathan: Like everything else, Fletcher, practice. Fletcher: I don't understand. The flock was gonna kill us. Our own flock! Why? Remember what you said about loving the flock enough to return to them and help them live? They wanted us dead! They're a mob! They're killers! How can you love them? Jonathan: You don't love hatred and evil, of course. You have to practice and see the good in every one of them and help them see it in themselves. That's what we mean by love. It's fun... when you get the idea of it. I remember a fierce young bird, for instance. Fletcher Lynd Seagull, his name. Just been made outcast, ready to fight the flock to the death, getting a start on building his own bitter hell out on the far cliffs. And here he is today, building his own heaven instead and leading the whole flock in that direction. Fletcher: Me? Leading? You're the instructor here. You can't leave us. Jonathan: Don't you think there might be other flocks, other Fletchers that need an instructor now more than this one? Fletcher: But me, Jon? I'm just a plain seagull, and you're... Jonathan: Oh, yes, yes, yes, I know. The only Son of the Great Gull, I suppose. Fletcher, you don't need me anymore. All the younger ones in the flock and some of the others too are ready to follow you now. All you need is to keep finding the real, unlimited Fletcher Seagull. He's your instructor. And don't let them spread silly rumors about me or try to make me some sort of a god, will you, Fletcher? I'm a seagull. I like to fly, maybe. Fletcher: Jonathan. Jonathan: We both have learned what we were meant to learn in our time together, Fletcher. That the way to find perfection and love is within us. Look with your understanding. Find out what you already know. Use it, Fletcher. Teach it, show it forth. And you'll know the way to fly.

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