影片對(duì)白:
Tibby: My carma-poochie-ay, I'm writing from the post office, and this express mail costs more than I make in two hours at wallmans, so these jeans better get to you tomorrow. Here we are on a typical Bethesda corner where generations of young entrepreneurs have proved the old adage: "When life hands you lemons, make lemonade."
Tibby: So the question on my mind is...is this fresh-squeezed or powder?
Bailey: Does it matter if it's good lemonade?
Tibby: Let me ask the questions.
Tibby: I'm sad to report that absolutely nothing of consequence happened to me while wearing the pants. I spilled a Sprite and my rat-faced manager accused me of receipt withholding.
Manager: Receipt withholding.
Tibby: In rat-faced manager lingo, that means forgetting to give a customer sales slip.
Bailey: You know, I was reading that Bill Gates when he was younger, he ran a lemonade stand.
Tibby: You don't know that, that's not--
Bailey: Yeah, I do. I read it in a magazine.
Tibby: Where did you read that?
Bailey: In a magazine.
Tibby: Other than that, the only thing that I have to show for the pants is the kid that delivered them, some wise-ass pain in the neck who's decided to permanently glue herself to my hip.
Bailey: She's just tired. She's been there a really long time, all day.
Tibby: What is she doing right there? Tell me.
Bailey: She's just thinking. She's strategizing.
Tibby: I think she's trying to grow a brain. I think that’s what she’s doing.
Tibby: Too bad you can't express mail 12-year-olds.
Bailey: And I wish you the very best of luck on this endeavor.
**********************
Lydia: Hey. Hey there, sleepyhead. Hey, Carmen. Honey, time to wake up.
Carmen: Hi.
Lydia: Hi there. Good morning. Sorry to wake you, but I was just wondering if Maria could grab your sheets.
Carmen: Maria?
Lydia: Yeah, our housekeeper. I told her you usually slept late but I don't think she understood me. Her English isn't real good.
Carmen: Okay, right. Could I-- I'll just wash my own sheets.
Lydia: No, no, no. Don't be silly. Maria can certainly do your sheets, not a problem.
Carmen: Lydia, it's really—
Lydia: It's a beautiful day. There is no reason why you should be washing sheets.
Carmen: Oh, it's not a problem at all. I usually do it myself anyway. I do it all the time. I'm so used to it. People wash their sheets all the time.
Lydia: Okay.
***********************
Kostas: Been here long?
Lena: Kostas. What are you doing here?
Kostas: It's a fish market. This is where I sell my fish.
Lena: Right.
Kostas: But you already knew that, eh?
Lena: Excuse me?
Kostas: Lena, no one sits near a smelly fish market unless they're waiting for someone.
Lena: Well, I don't know what you're talking about. I just came to sketch that old church over there.
Kostas: May I?
Lena: Well, it's-- It's not finished.
Kostas: You didn't tell me you were an artist.
Lena: I'm not, really.
Kostas: Lena, you are. My parents were married in that church before they left for the United States.
Lena: Why did they come back to Greece?
Kostas: They didn't. They were killed in a car accident when I was 12. I come back to live with my grandfather.
Lena: I'm sorry.
Kostas: What made you choose to paint this?
Lena: I don't know. I liked it because, when you first look at it, it looks kind of forgotten, and then...but then you realize that...that's why it's beautiful. It's perfect in all its loneliness.
Kostas: You see? Lena Kaligaris...you are an artist. And you should finish it.
Lena: Well, maybe some other time. I mean, I really should go. If my grandparents saw me here, they'd--
Kostas: They'd what? Is it really them you're afraid of? Or is it something else?
Lena: What do you mean? You don't even know me.
Kostas: I'm trying to. Or can't you see that?
Lena: He's right, Car. I am afraid. There's a part of me that wants to let him in, but then I feel myself put this wall up, and I don't understand why. Maybe that's what strikes me most about Kostas. That despite everything he's suffered, he can still look at life in the most uncomplicated way. I've never known that kind of faith. It makes me so sad that people like Kostas and Bridget who have lost everything can still be open to love, while I, who have lost nothing, am not.
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