Norman Bates:
Well, a son is a poor substitute for a lover.
Marion Crane:
Why don't you go away?
Norman Bates:
What, to a private island like you?
Marion Crane:
No, not like me.
Norman Bates:
I couldn't do that. Who would look after her? The fire in her fireplace would go out. It would be cold and damp up there like a grave. If you love sombody, you wouldn't leave them even if they treat your badly. Do you understand? I don't hate my mother. I hate at what she's become. I hate her illness.
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05/03/2025 alle ore 08:14
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