Love Story
Oliver: Hello, baby. Phil. How is it going, Mrs. B?
Jenny: It's going, preppy.
The troops will be home for Christmas.
Oliver: That's a little trite.
Jenny: It's the goddamn truth.
Oliver: Watch your language. There's a grown-up present.
Jenny: I hope so. Phil made a few promises.
Phil: Don't worry, Jenny.
Maybe I ought to let you guys... I'll be nearby.
Jenny: It doesn't hurt, Ollie. Really, it doesn't.
It's like falling off a cliff in slow motion, you know?
Only after a while you wish you'd hit the ground already,
you know?
Oliver: Yeah.
Jenny: Bullshit.
You've never fallen off a cliff in your whole life.
Oliver: Yes, I did. When I met you.
Jenny: Yeah. "What a falling off was there." Who said that?
Oliver: I don't know. Shakespeare?
Jenny: Yeah, but who? I mean, what play?
I went to Radcliffe, I'm supposed to remember those things.
I once knew all the Mozart Kochel listings.
Oliver: Big deal.
Jenny: You bet it was. What number is the A Major Concerto?
Oliver: I don't know. I'll look it up.
Jenny: But I used to know all those things.
I really did. I used to know all those things.
Oliver: Do you want to talk music?
Jenny: What do you want to talk? Funerals?
Oliver: No, I don't.
Jenny: Ollie?
I told Phil you could have a Catholic service
and you'd say OK. OK?
It'll really help him a lot, you know?
Oliver: OK.
Jenny: Now you've got to stop being sick.
Oliver: Me?
Jenny: That guilty look on your face, it's sick.
Stop blaming yourself, you stupid preppy.
It's nobody's fault. It's not your fault.
That's the only thing I'll ask you. Otherwise, you'll be OK.
Screw Paris!
Oliver: What?
Jenny: Screw Paris and music
and everything you thought you stole from me.
I don't care, don't you believe that?
Then get the hell out of here!
I don't want you at my deathbed!
Oliver: I believe you. I really do.
Jenny: That's better. Would you please do something for me,Ollie?
Would you please hold me? I mean really hold me. Next to me.
Oliver: Philip.
Phil: I wish... I wish I hadn't promised Jenny...
I wish I hadn't promised Jenny to be strong for you.
Oliver's dad: Oliver. Why didn't you tell me?
I made a couple of calls,
and as soon as I found out I jumped in the car.
Oliver, I want to help.
Oliver: Jenny's dead.
Oliver's dad: I'm sorry.
Oliver: Love... love means never having to say you're sorry.