You know what the Mexicans say about the Pacific? 

No. 

They say it has no memory. That’s where I want to live the rest of my life. A warm place with no memory. 

So now I’m crazy because I don’t love you, right? Is that the point? 

No! Wrong! You’re not crazy, and you do love me. That’s the point, April. 

But I don’t. I hate you. You were just some boy who made me laugh at a party once, and now I loathe the sight of you. In fact, if you come any closer, if you touch me or anything, I think I’ll scream. 

Oh, come on, stop this April. Fuck you, April! Fuck you and all your hateful, goddamn…

What are you going to do now? Are you going to hit me? To show me how much you love me? 

Don’t worry, I can’t be bothered! You’re not worth the trouble it would take to hit you! You’re not worth the powder it would take to blow you up. You are an empty, empty, hollow shell of a woman. I mean, what the hell are you doing in my house if you hate me so much? Why the hell are you married to me? What the hell are you doing carrying my child? I mean, why didn’t you just get rid of it when you had the chance? Because listen to me, listen to me, I got news for you - I wish to God that you had! 

I believe we live in a great country, a country that’s great enough to help a man financially when he’s in trouble. But lately, I’ve had some good fortune, and I’m back in the black. And I just thought I should return it. 

There, there, there. It’s okay, Daddy’s here, Daddy’s got you. I promise I will never let anything happen to you…

I saw then that my father’s only fear was that his son would follow the same road. And that was the last time I ever held a gun. People always thought I grew up on a farm. And I guess, in a way, I did. But I lived a lifetime before that, in those six weeks on the road in the winter of 1931. When people ask me if Michael Sullivan was a good man, or if there was just no good in him at all, I always give the same answer. I just tell them… he was my father. 

“I saw then that my father’s only fear was that his son would follow the same road. And that was the last time I ever held a gun. People always thought I grew up on a farm. And I guess, in a way, I did. But I lived a lifetime before that, in those six weeks on the road in the winter of 1931. When people ask me if Michael Sullivan was a good man, or if there was just no good in him at all, I always give the same answer. I just tell them… he was my father.”

One of my favorite films and one of the best scores ever. Thomas Newman is a musical genius. This track tugs my heartstrings.