For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.
—Vincent van Gogh
To feel.
Mary: Let me ask you something. Why are you alive?
John Preston: I’m alive… I live… to safeguard the continuity of this great society. To serve Libria.
Mary: It’s circular. You exist to continue your existence. What’s the point?
John Preston: What’s the point of your existence?
Mary: To feel. ‘Cause you’ve never done it, you can never know it. But it’s as vital as breath. And without it, without love, without anger, without sorrow, breath is just a clock… ticking.
A heavy cost. I’d pay it gladly.
Partridge: You always knew. [begins to read from Yeats] ”But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.” I assume you dream, Preston.
Preston: I’ll do what I can to see they go easy on you.
Partridge: We both know… they never go easy.
Preston: Well then, I’m sorry.
Partridge: No, you’re not. You don’t even know the meaning. It’s just a… vestigial word for a feeling you’ve never felt.
But somewhere along the line, you changed. You stopped being you. You let people stick a finger in your face and tell you you’re no good. And when things got hard, you started looking for something to blame, like a big shadow. Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s a very mean and nasty place and I don’t care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain’t about how hard ya hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done! Now if you know what you’re worth then go out and get what you’re worth. But ya gotta be willing to take the hits, and not pointing fingers saying you ain’t where you wanna be because of him, or her, or anybody! Cowards do that and that ain’t you! You’re better than that!


