Charlie Countryman (2013)
Gabi Ibanescu: Do you think things like this happen to people?
Charlie Countryman: Some people, yes.
Gabi Ibanescu: What people?
Charlie Countryman: Us.
Gabi Ibanescu: Us.
Gabi Ibanescu: Nigel was my husband.
Nigel: I beg your pardon, Gabi, did you say was? Honestly, fucking was? No, Charlie, not fucking was. Fucking is. Fucking meaning I currently fucking am 'til death do us fucking part.
Gabi Ibanescu: Maybe you have some kind of fantasy about helping a woman in a faraway land.
Nigel: Enjoy your new mates and your recreational drugs and the rest of it while you can. God knows it can all turn into blood in a blink of an eye.
Narrator: Here we are seeing it, ladies and gentleman, the very face of love. Look upon the miracle it reveals. And this boy, on the night under the moon so full, and yet he weeps for himself, and for us, and for the moonlight too, the boy does weep. Behold the beloved, hers is the name in the song which echoes in the space of his heart. Love is passion, love is mystery, love is pain. Above all things else, love is pain. It's the same old story of love and the promise it holds, of life and of living it in love, and perhaps a little bit of death. Yes, just a splash of death. To the beginning now, ladies and gentleman, where it all will end. Yes, ladies and gentleman, the boy did die today. But let us not weep for him. Let us take comfort, knowing that in his final hours, he came more alive than he had in all the days of his life entire. For the boy chose love, in defiance of fear and the hazards of this world, he chose love. Fortunately, a funny thing happened, something wonderous, something magical. Love chose him back.
Darko: [Angry at Karl for misspelling his name] My name is Darko. Darko.
[Brings out a pen]
Darko: And maybe if I put this pen right into your asshole, then write my name inside, you will remember?
Darko: [Luc chuckles nervously] Something is funny?
Luc: [Looks at everyone, very nervously] Yeah. What you just said with the pen-in-the-asshole thing. I mean you can't actually write inside someone's asshole.
Karl: It wouldn't actually help me remember.
Luc: How can you read inside your own asshole?
Karl: You wouldn't be able to read it.
Nigel: Is it true what they say, Charlie? Better to have loved and lost and all that?