Eilis: You remember that after I had dinner at your house, you told me that you loved me?
[Tony nods, sombre and nervous]
Eilis: Well, I didn't really know what to say. But I know what to say now. I have thought about you and I like you, and I like seeing you, and maybe I feel the same way. So the next time you tell me you love me, if there is a next
time, I'll, I'll say I love you too.
Tony: Are you serious?
Eilis: Yes.
Tony: Holy shit! Excuse my language, but I thought we were going to have a different kind of talk. You mean it?
Eilis: I mean it.
Eilis: I'd forgotten what this town is like. What were you planning to do, Miss Kelly? Keep me away from Jim? Stop me from going back to America? Perhaps you didn't even know. Perhaps it was enough for you to know that you could ruin me. My name is Eilis Fiorello.
Frankie Fiorello: So first of all I should say that we don't like Irish people.
[General cries of outrage around the table]
Frankie Fiorello: We don't! That is a well known fact! A big gang of Irish beat Maurizio up and he had to have stitches. And because he cops round here are Irish, nobody did anything about it.
Maurizio:
There are probably two sides to it. I might have said something I shouldn't, I can't remember now. Anyway, they probably weren't all Irish.
Frankie Fiorello: They just had red hair and big legs.
Miss Fortini: Ellis, you look like a different person. How did you do it? Maybe I can pass some advice onto the next poor girl who feels that way.
Eilis: I met somebody. An Italian fella.
Miss Fortini: Oh, I'm not passing that on. I'd rather have them homesick than heartbroken. Does he talk about baseball all the time? Or, his
mother?
Eilis: No.
Miss Fortini: Then keep him. There isn't another Italian man like him in New York.
Sheila: Would I get married again? No, I want to be waiting outside the bathroom of my boarding-house forever. Of course, I do. That's why I go to that wretched dance every week. I want to be waiting outside my own bathroom, while some bad tempered fellow with hair growing out of his ears reads the newspaper on the toilet and I wish I was back here, talking to you.
Diana: Have you told Tony yet, Ellis?
Eilis: Of course.
Sheila: Is he taking you out to celebrate?
Eilis: We're going to Coney Island at the weekend.
Patty: Oh, boy.
Eilis: What does that mean?
Patty: Well, do you have a bathing costume?
Eilis: No, I was going to...
Diana: Do you have sunglasses?
Eilis: No.
Sheila: You need sunglasses. I read that if you don't have them on the beach this year, people will talk about you.
Mrs. Keogh: And what will they say, exactly, Sheila?
Dolores: That's
the thing, Mrs Kehoe. You'd never know, because they'd never say it to your face.
Mrs. Keogh: Ellis, from the look of you, you have greasy skin, is that right? What do you do about that?
Eilis: Just... Well, I wash it, Mrs. Keogh, with soap.
Miss McAdam: There is nothing wrong with soap. Soap was good enough for our Lord. I expect.
Mrs. Keogh: Well, which brand did he use, Miss McAdam? Does
the Bible tell you that?
Diana: Our Lord is a man anyway. He didn't care about greasy skin.
Mrs. Keogh: Ladies, no more talk about our Lord's complexion at dinner, please.
Diana: It's not politics, to talk about eye operations.
Mrs. Keogh: It is if the eyes belong to a politician.
Mrs. Keogh: I'll tell you this much: I am going to ask Father Flood to preach a sermon on the dangers of giddiness. I now see that giddiness is the eighth deadly sin. A giddy girl is every bit as evil as a slothful man, and the noise she makes is a lot worse. Now, enough.