You have no grace.
Sopranos, this piece was written by monks who believed in God. They're singing not to other monks but to God. They're singing about God to God. And you think I'm a tough audience.
This is the spirit dissolving in the music carrying up to God. Open up and let her rip. Don't perform... create. Say, 'Muse, I hate you, but I hate you on my knees.' Scream, 'I am the infantile centre of the goddamn universe!' Everyone!
I go away for a while a look what happens. You let the whole place fall apart.
I won't make stupid threats but your not gonna run away with this guy because wherever you go, I can follow you.... even if it's to the woods in New Hampshire.
Why wont you yell....Come on I dare you.
They want Vietnamese orphans... and engineers. God, why wasn't I born a Vietnamese orphan?