Good will Hunting
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book written Michelangelo. You know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the Pope, sexual orientation, the whole works, right? But I bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the 16 chapel. You never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling. If I asked you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus of your personal favorites, you may even have been laid a few times, but you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. I asked you about war and you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right once more unto the breach. But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap and watched him gasp his last breath, looking to you for help. And if I ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet, but you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Knowing someone could level you with her eyes, feeling like God, put an angel on earth just for you who could rescue you from the depths of ****. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel and to have that love for her to be there forever through anything through cancer. You wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in a hospital room for two months holding her hand because the doctors could see in your eyes that the term visiting hours doesn't apply to you. You don't know about real loss because that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. I look at you and I don't see an intelligent, confident man. I see a cocky, scared, shitless kid, but you're a genius. Well, no one denies that no one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine and you ripped my ******* life apart. You're an orphan, right? Do you think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel who you are? Because I read Oliver twist does that encapsulate you personally, I don't give a ship about all of that because you know what? I can't learn anything from you. I can't read in some ******* books unless you want to talk about it. Who you are. And I'm fascinated. I'm in. But you don't want to do that, do your sport. You're terrified of what you might say. Your move chief. So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book written Michelangelo. You know a lot about him. Life's work. Political aspirations. Him and the pope, sexual orientation. The whole works, right? But I bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the 16 chapel. You never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling. If I asked you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus of your personal favorites. You may even have been laid a few times, but you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. I asked you about war and you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me right once more unto the breach. But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap and watched him gasp his last breath, looking to you for help. And if I ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Knowing someone could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you who could rescue you from the depths of ****. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel and to have that love for her to be there forever through anything through cancer. You wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in a hospital room for two months holding her hand. Because the doctors could see in your eyes that the term visiting hours doesn't apply to you. You don't know about real loss because that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. I look at you and I don't see an intelligent, confident man, I see a cocky, scared, shitless kid, but you're a genius. Well, no one denies that no one could possibly understand the depths of you, but you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine and you ripped my ******* life apart. You're an orphan, right? Do you think? I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel who you are? Because I read Oliver twist. Does that encapsulate you personally? I don't give a ship about all of that because you know what? I can't learn anything from you. I can't read in some ******* books unless you want to talk about it who you are and I'm fascinated. I'm in But you don't want to do that, do your sport. You're terrified of what you might say, your move chief.