Afterbirth
& Ben: Just come see it. When I look at this place, for the first time, I feel... like there’s hope.
& Ben: Where are you, Vivien? Vivien! Where are you?
& Ben: I’m here to get my son, Constance.
Constance: Your son... of course.
& Moira: I wonder, how is your adjustment going?
Vivien: I have to say one of the hardest things is watching Ben. He’s so devastated*.
Moira: Yes, well, it’s always the living that make it hard.
& Moira: You don’t need to run off, dear. He can’t see you unless you want him to.
& Vivien: Moira, would you make me a cup of tea, please?
Moira: No. Your denial is impressive. You’re a ghost, Mrs. Harmon. I don’t take orders from ghosts. I’m your equal now in this world.
& Hayden: Now we have all the time in the world.
& Stacy Ramos: I know the, uh, economy is down, but why is the asking price so far below market? There isn’t a problem with mold or radon, is there?
Marcy: No. Nothing so simple. In the interest of full disclosure, I must inform you that the previous owners passed away in the house.
Stacy: Oh. How?
Marcy: The wife died during childbirth, and the husband, in his grief, committed suicide. {...} It’s a tragically romantic love story. {...}
Miguel Ramos: Well... at least they weren’t murdered.
& Marcy: I’d be happy to show you another house. But no matter where you go, you’ll be moving into somebody’s history.
& Miguel: What do you think, Gabe?
Gabriel Ramos: I don’t believe in ghosts.
& Constance: You stupid son of a bitch.
Ben: I can’t believe she killed me...
Constance: Serves you right.
& Constance: Who’s my good little angel, huh? Who’s my good little angel?
& Gabriel: Who are you?
Violet: You have awful taste in music. Butthole Surfers?
Gabriel: Who are you?
Violet: A ghost of my former self.
& Gabriel: Your hand’s cold.
Violet: You know what they say. Cold hands, warm heart.
& Gabriel: Hey. Get out of my room!
Violet: Are you sure you want to be alone? They say this house is haunted.
Gabriel: You’re kind of twisted, aren’t you?
Violet: You don’t know the half of it.
& Vivien: I remember when we were like that...
Ben: In the beginning.
Stacy: {...} To be continued.
Miguel: Uh-huh. On that note.
& Vivien: They seem like such a nice couple. They can’t have a baby in this house.
Ben: You’re right. We have to do something.
Moira: You’re going to need help.
& Miguel: Who the hell are you people?
Vivien: He used to be my husband... You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.
Ben: You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.
& Violet: Good-bye, Tate.
& Vivien: Some other poor family’s just gonna move in here. Suckers who will have no idea what they’re in for.
Ben: And we know exactly what to do.
& Tate: I really miss our talks, Ben. They were really helping me.
Ben: Bullshit. You’re a psychopath, Tate. It’s a mental disorder, and therapy can’t cure it.
& Ben: Don’t listen to me. I’m a total fraud. And by the way, therapy doesn’t work.
Tate: It doesn’t work? Then why do people do it?
Ben: Because they don’t want to take any responsibility for their crappy lives! So they pay a therapist to listen to their bullshit and make it all feel... special. So they can blame their crazy mothers for everything that went wrong. Sound familiar?
& Ben: It’s a great racket, too. Week after week, month after month, year after year we collect checks, but deep down we know it doesn’t work.
& Ben: Psychopath, by definition, is incapable of remorse.
& Ben: Sorrys are easy. What about taking responsibility for the things you’ve done?
& Vivien: What do you call him?
Nora: Little Noisy Monster.
& Vivien: You know, I’m gonna need so much help with him.
Moira: I can’t accept such a position. I’m not trained as a nanny.
Vivien: I wasn’t thinking that you would come work for us. I was gonna ask you if you wanted to be his... godmother.
Moira: If that’d make you feel safer...
Vivien: I think you’d be a great addition to the family.
& Moira: You’ll come to understand, Violet, that the word “ancient” will lose all its meaning when your entire existence is one long today.
& Constance: Little Michael and I were meant to be together. He was meant to be my son. And I... his mother.
& Constance: Well, now I understand tragedy was preparing me... for something greater. Every loss that came before was a lesson. I was being prepared. And now I know for what. This child... A remarkable boy. Destined for greatness!
& Constance: Now what am I gonna do with you?
--
devastated — опустошенный; разоренный
+ quotes on the Imdb.
__ Already waiting 4 a season 2...
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