"So, if I asked you (Will Hunting) about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michel Angelo, you know a lot about him, life's work, political aspirations, him and the Pope, sexual orientation, the whole works, right? But I bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling. Seen that...? If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus of your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. I ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right? 'Once more into the breach, dear friends.' But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, and watched him gasp his last breath looking to you for help.
I ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable...known someone that could level you with her eyes. Feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you… who could rescue you from the depths of Hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, and to have that love for her be there forever. Through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in a hospital room for two months, holding her hand because the doctors could see in your eyes that the terms visiting hours don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, because that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself. I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. I look at you; I don't see an intelligent, confident man. I see a cocky, scared sh*tless kid. But you're a genius, Will. No one denies that, no one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine and ripped my [f'n] life apart. You're an orphan, right? Do you think I'd know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you are because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally I don't give a sh*t about that, because, you know what, I can't learn anything from you I can't read in some f*cking book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. And I'm fascinated. I'm in. But you don't want to do that, do you sport? You're terrified of what you might say. Your move chief."
-- Sean
"Why shouldn't I work for the NSA? That's a tough one. But I'll take a shot. Say I'm working at the NSA, and somebody puts a code on my desk, something no one else can break. Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, ‘cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in. North Africa or the Middle East and once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels are hiding... Fifteen hundred people that I never met, never had no problem with get killed. Now the politicians are saying, Oh, "Send in the marines to secure the area", ‘cause they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, getting shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number got called, ‘cause they were pulling a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some kid from Southie over there taking shrapnel in the @ss.
"He comes back to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, ‘cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile he realizes the only reason he was over there in the first place was so that we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the little skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices. A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. They're taking their sweet time bringing the oil back, of course, maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and f*cking play slalom with the icebergs, it ain't too long till he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic.
"So now my buddy's out of work. He can't afford to drive, so he's walking to the f*cking job interviews, which sucks, because the shrapnel in his @ss is giving him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starving ‘cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they're serving is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what did I think? I'm holding out for something better. I figure f*ck it, while I'm at it why not just shoot my buddy, take his job, give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected President."
-- Will Hunting
"Look, you're (Will) my best friend, so don't take this the wrong way. But, In twenty years, if you're still living here, coming over to my house to watch the Patriots games, still working construction... I'll f*cking kill you. That's not a threat, that's a fact. I'll f*cking kill you…. You don't owe it to yourself, you owe it to me. Because tomorrow I'm gonna wake up and I'll be fifty. And I'll still be doing this sh*t. And that's all right, that's fine. I mean, you're sitting on a winning lottery ticket. And you're too much of a p*ssy to cash it in. And that's bullsh*t. ‘Cause I'd do f*cking anything to have what you got. So would any of these f*cking guys. It'd be an insult to us if you're still here in twenty years. Hanging around here is a f*cking waste of your time."
-- Chuckie
Let me save you the trouble. She's not perfect... and neither are you. The question is whether or not you are perfect for each other. -- Sean
