Archivist: On behalf of my Ministry and the future of Unanimity, I want to thank you for the final interview. Remember, this isn't an interrogation or trial. Your version of the truth is all that matters.
Sonmi-451: Truth is singular. Its "versions" are mistruths.
I know, I know!
Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others. Past and present. And by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.
I will not be subjected to criminal abuse.
We cross and re-cross our old paths like figure-skaters.
Haskell Moore: There is a natural order to this world, and those who try to upend it do not fare well. This movement will never survive, if you join them you and your entire family will be shunned. At best you will exist at pariah to be spat at and beaten, at worse to be lynched or crucified. And for what, for what, no matter what you do it will never amount to anything more than a single drop in a limitless ocean.
Adam Ewing:What is an ocean but a multitude of drops?
Fear, belief, love phenomena that determined the course of our lives. These forces begin long before we are born and continue after we perish.
Archivist: [about Yoona taking Somni to the lost-and-found room] Why didn't you report Yoona-939 to Seer Rhee the next day?
Sonmi-451: I couldn't.
Sonmi-451: Because she trusted me.
Archivist: But your actions violated the Fifth Catechism.
Sonmi-451: That's true.
Archivist: How did you justify this transgression?
Sonmi-451: She was my friend.
Soylent Green are people!
And all becomes clear. Wish I could make you see this brightness. Don't worry, all is well. All is so perfectly, damnably well. I understand now, that boundaries between noise and sound are conventions. All boundaries are conventions, waiting to be transcended. One may transcend any convention, if only one can first conceive of doing so. Moments like this, I can feel your heart beating as clearly as I feel my own, and I know that separation is an illusion. My life extends far beyond the limitations of me.
Timothy Cavendish: Never forget Herman Melville, writes a ripping yarn about a big white whale which is summarily dismissed, and yet today it is lugged around in the backpacks of every serious student of literature in the world.
Dermot Hoggins: I don't give a fuck what happens when I'm dead, I want people to buy me book now!
Zachry: Who tripped the Fall, if not Old Georgie?
Meronym: True-true? The Old Uns.
Zachry: That's just a rope o'smoke. Old Uns got the Smart. They mastered sick and seeds, they make miracles and fly across the sky.
Meronym: True. All true. But they got somethin' else. A hunger in their hearts, a hunger that's stronger than all their Smart.
Zachry: Hunger? For what?
Meronym: A hunger for more.
This world spins from the same unseen forces that twist our hearts.