The Boy Quotes in The Road (2009)
The Boy Quotes:
The Boy: Are you carrying the fire?
Veteran: Am I what?
The Boy: Carrying the fire.
Veteran: You're kind of weirded out, aren't you, kid?
The Boy: Well, are you?
Veteran: Yeah. I'm carrying the fire.
The Man: Listen, we have to talk. That man back there... There's not many good guys left, that's all. We have to watch out for the bad guys. We have to just... keep carrying the fire.
The Boy: What fire?
The Man: The fire inside you.
The Boy: Are we still the good guys?
The Man: Yes, we're still the good guys. Of course we are.
The Boy: And we always will be? No matter what happens?
The Man: Always will.
The Boy: [they just ate two crickets after narrowly escaping from the cannibal house where people are locked in the basement until ready to be eaten] We would never eat anybody, would we?
The Man: No, of course not.
The Boy: No matter how hungry we were?
The Man: Uh nuh.
The Boy: Even if we were starving?
The Man: We're starving now.
The Boy: Because we're the good guys.
The Man: Yes.
The Boy: And we're carrying the fire.
The Man: [with a very proud smile] Yes.
Motherly Woman: I'm so glad to see you. We were following you. Did you know that? We saw you with your papa. We're so lucky. We were so worried about you, and now we don't have to worry about a thing. How does that sound? Is that okay?
The Boy: Okay.
The Boy: How do I know you're one of the good guys?
Veteran: You don't. You'll just have to take a shot.
The Boy: It's bubbly
The Man: You have to keep carrying the fire.
The Boy: What fire?
The Man: The fire inside you.
The Boy: Are we gonna die?
The Man: We are not gonna quit. We are gonna survive this.
The Boy: How many people do you think are still alive?
The Man: In the world? Not very many.
The Conductor: Well, ya comin'?
The Boy: Where?
The Conductor: To the North Pole, of course! This is the Polar Express!
The Boy: I believe.
Hobo: What exactly is... is your persuasion on the Big Man, since you brought him up?
The Boy: Well, I... I want to believe... but...
Hobo: But you don't want to be bamboozled. You don't want to be led down the primrose path! You don't want to be conned or duped. Have the wool pulled over your eyes. Hoodwinked! You don't want to be taken for a ride. Railroaded!
[Hobo puts out fire with the joe]
Hobo: Seeing is believing. Am I right?
The Boy: Is everything all right? What do we do?
The Conductor: Well, considering that we have lost communication with the engineer, and are standing totally exposed on the front of the locomotive, and the train seems to be accelerating, uncontrollably, not to mention that we are headed to Glacier Gulch, which just happens to be the steepest downhill grade in the world, I suggest we all hold on... TIGHTLY!
[the train plunges down the VERY steep downhill tracks and accelerates rapidly]
Hobo: One more thing... do you believe in ghosts?
The Boy: [shakes head no]
Hobo: [in a sinister tone] Interesting...
The Boy: Are you saying that this is all just a... dream?
Hobo: You said it, kid! Not me.
The Boy: [after sounding the train whistle] I've wanted to do that my whole life!
The Boy: I'm looking for a girl.
Hobo: [after a pause; bursts out laughing] Well aren't we all?
[after he pulling the Emergency Brake, Lonely Boy gets on the train, Hero Girl shook her head to him and Mr. Conductor opens the door]
The Conductor: Who in the blazes applied that Emergency Brake?
Know-It-All: [gets up, points to him] He did!
The Conductor: You!
[He comes to the Hero Boy]
The Conductor: In case you didn't know, that cord is for emergency purposes only!
[He comes to the window, train whistle blows and closes the window]
The Conductor: And in case you weren't aware, tonight is Christmas Eve and in case you hadn't noticed: This train is on a very tight schedule now, young man! Christmas may not be important to some people. But, it is very important to the rest of US!
The Boy: But, but...
Hero Girl: He was just trying to stop the train, so that kid could get on!
[Conductor sees that Lonely Boy sitting alone in the next carriage]
The Conductor: I see.
[to Hero Boy]
The Conductor: Young man, is that what happened?
The Conductor: Well... Let me remind you: we are on a very tight schedule.
[he checks his watch]
The Conductor: And I've never been late before and I am certainly not going to be late tonight! Now, everybody, take your seats! Please!
[Everyone sits down]
The Conductor: Thank you.
The Boy: Ain't it funny when you think of the millions o' people in warm houses and feather beds, an' us just driftin' 'round like the clouds? But I guess it's about even when you boil it down. Even them people in feather beds ain't satisfied - we're all beggars of life.
The Boy: [title card] And if there's a gal in my the gang, she's my gal.
The Dragon: You've got to be mad to breathe fire, but I'm not mad at anybody.
The Boy: But try real hard. Concentrate.
[the dragon tries, but all he can muster is a puny smoke ring]
The Dragon: Not very good, is it?
The Boy: Nope. Too bad you're not a real dragon, instead of a punk poet.
The Dragon: [Angry] "Punk poet"?
[Now fire is coming out of his mouth]
The Dragon: Ooh, say that again.
The Boy: Punk poet.
The Dragon: Again.
The Boy: Punk poet.
The Dragon: Again.
The Boy: Punk poet.
The Dragon: [Delighted] Ooh, I'm mad! I'm mad! I'm mad!
The Boy: Punk poet! Punk poet! Punk poet!
The Boy: Sir Giles, I presume?
Sir Giles: Come, come, come, come, lad. Stop mumbling.
The Boy: I came to talk about the dragon.
Sir Giles: Ah, yes, yes, yes. Another tale of woe and misery, I suppose. Devoured your flocks, no doubt.
The Boy: Oh, no, sir. He...
Sir Giles: Aha! Made off with your loving parents, has he? Well, they shall be avenged!
The Boy: But you don't understand...
Sir Giles: What? Don't tell me he's kidnapped some fair damsel, with flaxen hair, and ruby lips, and form divine? Why, he can't do that to her! He shall pay dearly on the field of battle.
The Boy: But that's just it. He won't fight.
Sir Giles: Yes. He... He won't fight? Preposterous! The fellow must be an infernal cad. Bit of a rotter, what?
The Boy: He is not. He's a nice old dragon who likes to write poetry.
Sir Giles: Poetry?
The Boy: Yes. You know, verses?
Sir Giles: How jolly! Ha ha! I'm a bit of a bard myself, you know.
The Boy: You a poet, too?
Sir Giles: Yes. No doubt you've heard of my Ode to a Fleecy Cloud?
The Boy: Well, I...
Sir Giles: Oh fleecy cloud, O cloud of fleece, up in the sky so high... Oh. Oh, my.
The Boy: Oh, my.
The Boy: Do you mind if I recite a poem?
The Dragon: You, boy? Why, well, oh, not at all!
Sir Giles: Oh, of course, of course. Rather, rather!
The Boy: 'Tis evening / From the stars above / A soft mysterious light / Brings thoughts of friendship, joy and love.
The Boy: Now how 'bout that fight?
Father: Oh, son, I seen it! Up on the bounds it was, all covered with scales and such, and a tail with a sort of hook on it! Now wait until I catch me breath. It's horrible! That's what it is, horrible!
The Boy: It's only a dragon, father.
Father: Oh... Only a dragon? Oh! The village! Help! There's a dragon a-coming! Help!
The Boy: Don't worry, father. I'll have a look at him.
The Boy: Have you had any nice battles lately?
The Dragon: Battles? Oh, no, no, no battles. No.
The Boy: Oh. Oh, probably too busy scourging the countryside and devouring fair damsels, then.
The Dragon: Scourging? Devouring? Good heavens, no.
The Boy: But don't you ever do anything desperate?
The Dragon: Well, yes, I... I do make up poetry.
The Boy: Poetry?
The Dragon: Verses, you know? Care to hear my latest sonnet?
The Boy: Well, I...
The Dragon: Oh, you'll love this. I call it, "Just A-Drifting".
The Dragon: Just a-drifting o'er the leaves/Like a dewdrop, fancy free,/Playing with the gentle breezes,/Romping with the bumble beezes./Oh, what fun! Joy never ceases,/Just a-drifting.
The Boy: I always imagined there'd be a time in my life where everything would line up and the universe would reveal its plan to me. What was once confusing and overwhelming would reassemble into something so clear and so bright, there's no way I wouldn't know what to do. And I guess you could say that's what happened.
The Boy: I hate that I'm good at the things I don't care about and terrible at the things I do.
The Boy: Would you have any advice for someone who would want to make a transition into a carrier in astronomy?
Dr. Lambert: One would need a strong foundation in physics and mathematics, obviously a thorough comprehension of electricity and magnetism, atomic and nuclear physics, thermodynamics, statistical mechanics, quantum theory and computer science.
The Boy: And for someone with a liberal arts degree?
Dr. Lambert: It's important to distinguish your skills from your interests.
[Telling The Boy the story of "The Continuing Saga of Sod's Law - You Just Can't Win", an idealised but thinly-disguised version of his own life with his wife, "The Princess", who has now left him for a new lover, the owner of the Rover 2000S]
The Boy: The Princess? Was she there?
The Boy: The Princess who smoked French cigarettes and was beautiful when she wasn't looking.
Hiller: We only had one rule. We didn't let anyone in who had a Rover 2000S. 2000 Smegma.
The Boy: Why?
Hiller: [bitterly] Because people with Rover 2000 Smegmas live in four-bedroom fake Georgian houses. They marry St Bernard dogs called Darling. And they have nasty little kids in green jumpsuits who come in through the window on a wire and say "Gosh!" and all that sort of thing.
The Boy: But someone like that, we'd never have let them in. The Princess wouldn't have liked them at all.
Hiller: No she wouldn't.
Young Mother: [last lines - narration] People thought it was the end of the world. But the world didn't end. So they rebuilt the city in 3 years, stronger and taller. London is a city built on the wreckage of itself, Osama. It's had more come backs than the evil dead. It's been flattened by storms and flooded out and rotted with plague. Even Hitler couldn't finish it off. Death nor flame was like hell, my grandmother said, just one endless sea of flames. But we built on the rubble, and we kept on coming like zombies. I *am* the city, Osama. I am the whole world. Murder me with bombs and I will only build myself again, and stronger. I'm too stupid to know better.
Young Mother: The Sun says you are an evil monster, but I don't believe in you, and I know it takes two to tango. I know you're vexed at the leaders of the western world. Well I'll be writing to them too.
Young Mother: [as baby is being born] I know you're a clever man, Osama. Much brighter than me. If I can make you see my son with all your heart for just one moment, I know you would stop making boy-shaped holes in the world - it would make you too sad. Love is not surrender, Osama. Love is furious and brave and loud. You could hear it in the noise my boy made when he played with his cars.
The Boy: [memory of him playing] Vroom! Vroom! Vroom!
Young Mother: I wish you could have heard him, Osama. That noise is the fiercest and the loudest sound on earth. It will echo 'til the end of time. It is more deafening than bombs. Come to me. Come to me and we'll blow the world back together with incredible noise and fury.
The Boy: 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Go...
The Boy: Mummy you blinked, I won.
Young Mother: Yes you did. Now in you get. Tomorrow we're going to the sea-side.
Young Mother: [narration - boy running on the beach] So, if I'm going to show you my life, better start here. My boy, in Camber Sands. Why this and why now? I'll come back to that.
The Boy: Mummy!
Young Mother: [narration] A force of nature was what the midwife called him when he came howling into this world four years ago. And he hasn't stopped since.
The Boy: Mummy!
Young Mother: [narration] Me and him spend a lot of time together on account his Dad is a right miserable bugger. To be fair, he wasn't always miserable. Or maybe he was and I just didn't see it. I wouldn't be the first one in my family to have her knickers charmed off her by some fellow in the Army. Any way, for better or worse, I got my boy and he got me.
The Boy: [dangling a sand worm] Mummy! Mummy!
Young Mother: [narration] I remember my Mum took me to Camber Sands once. The one day she was sober. It was drizzling then too. "Gets you out of the house, don't it?", she said.
Young Mother: [narration - on train] And that quiet rain fell all the way home.
Young Mother: [narration - London street] My gran told me that Adolf Hitler did us a favour when he bombed London. His incendiary bombs made the hole in Barnett Grove that they built our tower blocks in. And London burned with incredible noise and fury. It was on account of Adolf, she said, that we get a nice view with the Georgian Gems on the other side of the street, where the bomb missed.
The Boy: Mummy. I'm running, I'm running really far. Come on, catch me!
Young Mother: [calling to him] Careful. If you think I can't see you in there, you're mad.
Young Mother: [narration] We bought our flat off the Council. Smells of chip fat. But Lenny says it will be a good investment one day, because it's within a stone's throw of the city. Third generation of tower block dwellers, we are. If you're interested just type in Chav, Pikey or Ned, and you'll find us in council estates all over London. Favourite food: Chicken Kiev, favourite TV programme: Top Gear, Religion? Arsenal Football Club.
The Boy: Say kid, you're going to be my chicken.
The Boy: Nothing doing on the good night stuff, I always go inside to see my girls.
The Boy: [In the cemetery, looking at all the elaborate tombs] I don't care where they put me when I'm dead.
The Girl: Do you think the soul escapes from the body after death? Is there such a thing as the soul?
The Boy: I don't think there's anything left after physical death. And it's stupid to spend all that money on stiffs.
The Girl: Some do that out of love.
The Boy: Well, I prefer the love of life more than the love of death.
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