Stalker: Take it away. Writer: Of course, the prohibition law. "Alcohol is the scourge of mankind." Let's drink beer then.
出自電影《潛行者》 的經典對白。
更多潛行者的經典對白
Martha, Stalker's daughter: I love those eyes of yours, my friend, Their sparkling, flashing, fiery wonder; When suddenly those lids ascend, Then lightning rips the sky asunder; You swiftly glance, and there's an end; There's greater charm, though, to admire; When lowered are those eyes divine; In moments kissed by passion's fire; When through the downcast lashes shine: the smoldering embers of desire...
Stalker: You can't be happy at the expense of other's unhappiness.
Stalker: The Zone wants to be respected. Otherwise it will punish.
Stalker: It is so quiet out here, it is the quietest place in the world.
Writer: Some bastard abuses you, you're hurt. A different bastard praises you, you're hurt.
Stalker: In the Zone, the longer way, the less risk.
Stalker: There's nothing else left to people on Earth. This is the only place to come to when all hope is gone.
Stalker: There's no going back. Nobody goes back the same way they came.
Writer: You dream of one thing and get something quite different.
Writer: You're a bad judge of human nature if you bring people like me into the Zone.
Writer: What comes true here is that which reflects the essence of your nature. It is within you. It governs you.
Professor: Who know what desires a person might have?
Professor: I don't understand anything at all. What's the sense of coming here?
Stalker: I'll be back soon. Stalker's Wife: You'll be back in prison. Next time, they'll give you ten years instead of five. And you'll have nothing to show for those ten years. Not the Zone, not anything. And in ten years, I'll be dead. Stalker: Prison? I'm imprisoned everywhere.
Writer: All your technology, all those blast furnaces, wheels, and suchlike hustle and bustle, so that people can work less and consume more, they're all crutches, artificial limbs. Mankind exists in order to - to create works of art. At least that's unselfish compared with all other human activities. Great illusions. Images of absolute truth. Are you listening to me, Professor? Professor: What unselfishness are you talking about? People keep dying of hunger. Have you been living on the moon?
Writer: No one in the world has a conception about the Zone, so it'll be a sensation. Television, you lady fans getting hot flashes, people carrying brooms as if they were laurel wreaths. Then our professor appears all in whit and declaims, "Mene, mene. Tekel upharsin." Naturally, everyone gapes and shouts, "Give him the Nobel Prize!" Professor: You bedraggled hack writer. You homegrown psychologist. Fit only to scribble graffiti in lavatories, you talentless clod. Writer: That's feeble stuff. Call that an insult? You don't know how it's done. Professor: All right. Suppose I'm after a Nobel Prize. What are you after? Want to bestow on mankind the pearls of your bought inspiration? Writer: I spit on mankind. In all of mankind, only one man interests me. And that's me. Am I worth anything or am I shit like certain other people? Professor: What if you find out that's indeed what you are? Writer: Know something, Einstein? I don't want to argue with you. Professor: Truth is born in arguments, damn it.
Writer: I seldom think, it's bad for me. Professor: It's impossible to write and keep thinking about success or failure? Writer: Naturally. But on the other hand, if my books aren't being read in 100 years, why bother to write?
Stalker: Take it away. Writer: Of course, the prohibition law. "Alcohol is the scourge of mankind." Let's drink beer then.
Professor: Stalking is a kind of vocation. Writer: I imagined stalkers to be different. Professor: How so? Writer: Like Leatherstocking or Chingachgook or Big Snake.
Writer: The main thing is that the professor's rucksack and spare pants are safe. Professor: Don't poke your nose into another guy's drawers - if you know what I mean.
Stalker: You certainly are lucky. Now you'll live to be a hundred! Writer: Why not forever? Like a Wandering Jew.
Fine Lady with the Writer: You said that the Zone is the product of a super civilization... Writer: Which is probably also boring, also with laws and triangles, but without goblins and, of course, without any God.
