Partridge: You always knew.
[begins to read from Yeats]
Partridge: "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.
Polygraph Technician: This is a control question, a riddle really. How would you say would be the easiest way to take a weapon away from a Grammaton Cleric?
Brandt: [speaks into Preston's ear] You ask him for it.
DuPont: In the first years of the 21st century, a third World War broke out. Those of us who survived knew mankind could never survive a fourth; that our own volatile natures could simply no longer be risked. So we have created a new arm of the law: The Grammaton Cleric, whose sole task it is to seek out and eradicate the true source of man's inhumanity to man - his ability to feel.
Brandt: Cleric, I can only hope one day to be as uncompromising as you.
DuPont: And you, Preston, the supposed savior of the resistance, are now its destroyer, and, along with them, you've given me yourself... calmly... coolly... entirely without incident.
John Preston: [Polygraph machine scribbling rapidly] No.
[Polygraph suddenly registers Preston completely in control]
Polygraph Technician: Oh... Shit.
John Preston: Not without incident.
Brandt: Mind the uniform Cleric.
[unsheathes a katana]
Brandt: I plan to be wearing it for a long time.
DuPont: Wait! Wait! Look at me. Look at me. I'm life. I live... I, I breathe... I feel. Now that you know it... can you really take it? Is it really worth the price?
[Preston sees a flash of Mary's face]
John Preston: I pay it gladly.
Mary: Let me ask you something.
[Grabs his hand]
Mary: Why are you alive?
John Preston: [Breaks free] 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.
Robbie Preston: [Mutes TV] John?
John Preston: Yes?
Robbie Preston: I saw Robbie Taylor crying today. He didn't know, but I saw. Do you think I should report him?
John Preston: Unquestionably.
John Preston: I'll do what I can to see they go easy on you.
Partridge: We both know they never "go easy".
John Preston: Then, I'm sorry.
Partridge: No, you're not. You don't even know the meaning. Its just a vestigial word for a feeling you've never felt.
Robbie Preston: Looking for something. If I were you I'd be more careful in future.
John Preston: How long?
Robbie Preston: Since mom
John Preston: And Lisa
Robbie Preston: Of course
John Preston: How did you know?
Robbie Preston: You forget. It's my job to know what you're thinking.
John Preston: And you know what I'm gonna do now.
John Preston: There's no war. No murder.
Partridge: What is it you think we do?
John Preston: No. You've been with me, you've seen how it can be - the jealousy, rage.
Partridge: A heavy cost. I pay it gladly.
[Reaches for his gun]
Father: Mankind united with infinitely greater purpose in pursuit of war than he ever did in pursuit of peace.
DuPont: The gun katas. Through analysis of thousands of recorded gunfights, the Cleric has determined that the geometric distribution of antagonists in any gun battle is a statistically predictable element. The gun kata treats the gun as a total weapon, each fluid position representing a maximum kill zone, inflicting maximum damage on the maximum number of opponents while keeping the defender clear of the statistically traditional trajectories of return fire. By the rote mastery of this art, your firing efficiency will rise by no less than 120%. The difference of a 63% increase to lethal proficiency makes the master of the gun katas an adversary not to be taken lightly.
[trying to convince a group of rebels that he's letting them escape]
John Preston: Go. Go, damn you!
[sees another rebel being shot and knows this group will be next]
John Preston: Get out of here, God damn it! If you don't, you're dead!
Rebel: Don't do it. He'll shoot us in the back.
John Preston: If I was gonna shoot you, I'd shoot you in the face. Now go.
John Preston: Then I have no choice but to remand you to the Palace of Justice for processing.
Mary: Processing. You mean execution, don't you?
John Preston: Processing.
Father: Prozium - The great nepenthe. Opiate of our masses. Glue of our great society. Salve and salvation, it has delivered us from pathos, from sorrow, the deepest chasms of melancholy and hate. With it, we anesthetize grief, annihilate jealousy, obliterate rage. Those sister impulses towards joy, love, and elation are anesthetized in stride, we accept as fair sacrifice. For we embrace Prozium in its unifying fullness and all that it has done to make us great.
John Preston: You're an offender!
Reading Room Proprietor: I'm not!
John Preston: No? Then why are you so scared of me?
Brandt: Always practicing, Cleric. Maybe that's why you're the best.
John Preston: Maybe I'm just better.
Mary: You can't do this! You cannot do this!
John Preston: Tetragrammaton. There's nothing we can't do.
John Preston: When we return from the Nether it always reminds me of why we do what we do.
Partridge: It does?
John Preston: [pauses; He takes notice of Partridge's intonation] I beg your pardon?
Partridge: [Withdraws Prozium-administering device from his pocket and injects himself with it] It does.
DuPont: It is not the will of the Council, it is the will of Father and he is law.
John Preston: Sir... without the logic of process, is it not just mayhem - what we have worked so hard to eradicate?
DuPont: You must understand, Preston, that while you - and even I - may not always agree with it,it is not the message that is important, it is our obedience to it. Father's will. Call it faith. You have it, I assume?
John Preston: Yes. I have it.
John Preston: You're absolutely 100% right, sir.
DuPont: Of course I am.