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: For pay, I got a room at a hundred dollars a month, which you can work down to nothing if you'll help with cleaning. Manuel Jordan
: What makes you think I need a room? Miles Evans
: God told me. You're carrying your damn suitcase, man.
: You think God talks to me? We argue maybe, but He don't participate. It's all right. I'll see Him one day. When I do, I'm gonna whip His holy ass.
: You know, you could get lucky. God might decide to grade you on the curve. Manuel Jordan
: It wouldn't matter either way. Miles Evans
: You don't know what the hell you talking about, do you? Why be afraid of a God that you don't believe in? Oh, I know, it seems like people are making up shit so they can feel good about all the pain, all the cruelty, loss, violence, suffering, death. Famine, bigotry, small-mindedness, repression, depression, oppression. Want me to keep talking? 'Cause I can go on forever with this shit. Manuel Jordan
: No, I get the point. Miles Evans
: The point is: I believe in the lie. Never underestimate its power. Now, as for me, well, I'm lying through my teeth. I'll see you soon.
: I don't need you to believe. I just need you to clean.