& Dexter: What is that smell?
Emma: Onions. Onions and disappointment.
Dexter: Right.
Emma: No, it’s not that bad. It’s nothing that a lick of paint and a nuclear warhead can’t fix. I’ve got my typewriter. I’ve got my books. I’m in London.
& Ian: Hello. I’m Ian. Ian Whitehead.
Emma: The new boy... Welcome to the graveyard of ambition.
& Emma: So what’s your stroke?
Ian: Sorry, my what?
Emma: Waiter/actor, waiter/model, waiter/writer?
& Emma: What do you mean, you knew?
Dexter: Well, I sort of guessed. All those epic letters and compilation tapes. ... What happened?
Emma: Mmm. I got to know you. You cured me of you.
Dexter: I’d still like to read those poems. What rhymes with Dexter?
Emma: Prick. It’s a half-rhyme.
& Emma: I’m a bloody good teacher, Dexter.
Dexter: I’m sure you are. Still... you know what they say?
Emma: No, what do they say?
Dexter: You know, “Those who can...”
Emma: No, I’m sorry. I’m not familiar. Finish the sentence.
Dexter: All right. Well... “Those who can, do, and those who can’t, teach.”
Emma: ... And those who can teach say, “Go fuck yourself!”
& Dexter: What, they’re sacking me?
Aaron: You see, sack* has negative connotations. It’s just they wanna try a new presenter.
Dexter: So they are sacking me?
Aaron: Well, no, they’re taking the show in a different direction, but it’s a direction away from you.
& Dexter: Just a little concerned about my future. It’s not quite what I was expecting.
Aaron: The future never is. That’s what makes it so bloody exciting!
& Emma: Don’t start, Dex.
Dexter: What?
Emma: Your sympathy. I’m not lonely. I’m alone.
& Dad: The best thing that you could do would be to try to live your life as if Emma was still here. Don’t you?
Dexter: I don’t know if I can.
Dad: Of course you can. What do you think I’ve been doing for the past 10 years?
& Ian: I hate today. Fifteenth of July.
Dexter: Saint Swithin’s Day. It’s a tough one.
--
sack — увольнять; грабить; класть в мешок
+ quotes on the Imdb.
__ Sweet... Sweet with a good portion of bitterness.
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