Captain Corelli's Mandolin (2001)
Iannis: When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake, and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots are become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day. It is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No... don't blush. I am telling you some truths. For that is just being in love; which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away. Doesn't sound very exciting, does it? But it is!
Pelagia: I wrote to you every day. A hundred letters... and not a single reply.
Mandras: [takes out her letters from his coat] I never learned... to read or write.
Corelli: Do you miss me?
Pelagia: So much that I cant sleep at night.
Corelli: I have always found something in life worth singing about and for that I cannot apologize.
Iannis: What on earth you think you are doing?
Corelli: I'm feeling the orchestra.
Corelli: [upon first seeing Pelagia] Bella bambina at two o'clock!
Iannis: [writing to Corelli] Antonio, I do not know if this letter will reach you, or even if you are alive. Perhaps someone else sent your record, and that is why we found no note. I would like to say that Pelagia is happy, but she is full of tears she will not let fall, and of a grief no doctor can mend. She blames herself for the pain we have suffered, and perhaps the same is true for you. You know I am not a religious man, but I believe this: if there is a wound, we must try to heal it. If there is someone whose pain we can cure, we must search till we find them. If the gods have chosen that we should survive, it will be for a reason.
[the great earthquake strikes]
Pelagia: Why did you save him? Why didn't you leave him to die?
Mandras: I wanted you to love me again.
[Pulls out 100 letters]
Mandras: In Albania, I made them read every one of these to me... 'Mandras, I love you,' 'Mandras, I want you,' 'Mandras, when are you coming back?' And then one day, a different letter. 'I don't know how to describe my feelings. It's as if I have been waiting a hundred years to hear from you, waiting a hundred years for you to return. Once, my heart was overflowing with love for you, but now all I feel is emptiness. And I think it was all just a pretense, that I never loved you at all.'