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Johnny: Well... it just goes to show you that no matter 'ow many books you read, there's some things in this world that you never, ever, ever, ever, ever fuckin' understand.
Johnny: Was I bored? No, I wasn't fucking bored. I'm never bored. That's the trouble with everybody; you're all so bored. You've had nature explained to you and you're bored it, you've had the living body explained to you and your're bored with it, you've had the universe explained to you, and you're bored with it. So now you just want cheap thrills and like plenty of them and it doesn't matter how tawdry or how vacuous as long as its new as long as its new as long as it flashes and fucking bleeps in fourty fucking different colours. Well whatever else you can say about me... I'm not fucking bored.
Johnny: Well, basically, there was this little dot, right? And the dot went bang and the bang expanded. Energy formed into matter, matter cooled, matter lived, the amoeba to fish, to fish to fowl, to fowl to frog, to frog to mammal, the mammal to monkey, to monkey to man, amo amas amat, quid pro quo, memento mori, ad infinitum, sprinkle on a little bit of grated cheese and leave under the grill till Doomsday
Johnny: Are you not familiar with the Book of Revelation, of St. John, the final book of the Bible, prophesying the apocalypse? ... [i]n the same Book of Revelation, when the Seven Seals are broken open on the Day of Judgement, when the seven angels blow their trumpets, when the third angel blows 'er bugle, "Wormwood will fall from the sky, Wormwood will poison a third part of all the waters and a third part of all the land, and many, many, many, many people will die' Now d'you know what the Russian translation for wormwood is?
Johnny: Chernobyl! FACT!
Johnny: Be good. If you can't be good, be careful.
Jeremy: You're very beautiful, aren't you?
Sophie: Am I?
Jeremy: In a quirky sort of way.
Louise: I fell asleep with the window open. I was cold. I came down. I 'ad a pee. I've made some tea. I'm 'ere. All right?
Johnny:Oh Come now, there's no need to knock the young lad. He's a wonderful exponent of the old Socratic debate.
Johnny: Why are you here in London, oh Bodhidharma?
Johnny:An', er, listen love... I hope that when you're tucked up tonight, all snug and warm underneath your tear-sodden fuckin' duvet in your ankle-length Emily Bronte windin'-sheet, that you spare a thought for me, with me head in a puddle of cold dog's piss. An' I hope that you dream about me. An' I hope that you wake up screamin'.