Thomas Wake: See to your duties. The light is mine.
出自電影《燈塔》 的經典對白。
更多燈塔的經典對白
Thomas Wake: See to your duties. The light is mine.
Ephraim Winslow: If I had a steak... I'd fuck it.
Thomas Wake: DAMN YE! Let Neptune strike ye dead, Winslow! HAAAAAARK!
Thomas Wake: How long have we been on this rock? Five weeks? Two Days? Where are we? Help me to recollect
Thomas Wake: And I'm damn-well wedded to this here light, and she's been a finer, truer, quieter wife than any alive-blooded woman.
Thomas Wake: See to your duties. The light is mine.
Ephraim Winslow: If i had a steak... . i would fuck it.
Thomas Wake: Yer fond of me lobster aint' ye? I seen it - yer fond of me lobster! Say it! Say it. Say it! Ephraim Winslow: I don't have to say nothin'. Thomas Wake: Damn ye! Let Neptune strike ye dead Winslow! HAAARK! Thomas Wake: Hark Triton, hark! Bellow, bid our father the Sea King rise from the depths full foul in his fury! Black waves teeming with salt foam to smother this young mouth with pungent slime, to choke ye, engorging your organs til' ye turn blue and bloated with bilge and brine and can scream no more - only when he, crowned in cockle shells with slitherin' tentacle tail and steaming beard take up his fell be-finned arm, his coral-tine trident screeches banshee-like in the tempest and plunges right through yer gullet, bursting ye - a bulging bladder no more, but a blasted bloody film now and nothing for the harpies and the souls of dead sailors to peck and claw and feed upon only to be lapped up and swallowed by the infinite waters of the Dread Emperor himself - forgotten to any man, to any time, forgotten to any god or devil, forgotten even to the sea, for any stuff for part of Winslow, even any scantling of your soul is Winslow no more, but is now itself the sea! Ephraim Winslow: Alright, have it your way. I like your cookin'.
Ephraim Winslow: You think yer so damned high and mighty cause yer a goddamned lighthouse keeper? Well, you ain't a captain of no ship and you never was, you ain't no general, no copper, you ain't the president, and you ain't my father -- and I'm sick of you actin' like you is! I'm sick of your laugh, your snoring, and your goddamned farts. Your damned goddamned farts. Goddamn yer farts! You smell like piss, you smell like jism, like rotten dick, like curdled foreskin, like hot onions fucked a farmyard shit-house. And I'm sick of yer smell. I'm sick of it! I'm sick of it, you goddamned drunk. You goddamned, no-account, drunken, son-of-a-bitch-bastard liar! That's what you are, you're a goddamned drunken horse-shitting -- short -- shit liar. A liar! Thomas Wake: Y'have a way with words, Tommy.
Ephraim Winslow: Say, why is it bad luck to kill a gull? Thomas Wake: In 'em's the souls of sailors what met their maker. You a prayin' man, Winslow? Ephraim Winslow: Not as often as I might. But I'm God-fearin', if that's what you're askin'.
Ephraim Winslow: Goddamn your farts! You smell like piss, you smell like jism, like rotten dick, like curdled foreskin, like hot onions fucked a farmyard shit house. And I'm sick of your smell. I'm sick of it! I'm sick of it, you goddamned drunk. You goddamned no-account, son-of-a-bitch-bastard liar! That's what you are! You're a goddamned drunken, horse-shitting, short, shit liar. A liar! Thomas Wake: Ye have a way with words, Tommy.
Thomas Wake: I seen ye sparrin' with a gull. Best ye leave 'em be. Bad luck to kill a sea bird. Ephraim Winslow: More tall tales? Thomas Wake: *Bad luck to kill a sea bird!*
Thomas Wake: Queer way to wear your shoes. Ephraim Winslow: I didn't want to wake you is all.
Thomas Howard: It seems powerful hard to eat grass with no teeth. Goats and sheeps and cows, they all got teeth, don't they? Thomas Wake: You know how you eat grass with no teeth? Thomas Howard: Indulge me. Thomas Wake: You rip it out... and swallow it!
Thomas Wake: Get back to yer duties I say, or I'll give ye a real keelhauling. Thomas Howard: You ain't even human no more. Workin' apart from folks so long. You're only tolerable when you're drunk.
Thomas Wake: It's bad luck to leave a toast unfinished, lad. Thomas Howard: Oh, meanin'... Meanin' no disrespect. Thomas Wake: Man what don't drink best have his reasons. Thomas Howard: Uh... Ain't it... I... I understood it's against regulations, sir. Thomas Wake: Did ya? Thomas Howard: I did, sir. From uh... From them's manual. Thomas Wake: Didn't picture you a readin' man. Thomas Howard: Well, I ain't tryin' for trouble. Thomas Wake: Then you'll do as I say. That's in yer book, too.
