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Pike: Who are we, Mr. Gordon? If we remain silent while they make the next war—who then are we with our silence? Accomplices, Citizen! Let me talk out my heart! Don't stop me! Citizens, they have taken our sons and mangled them to death! They have left us lonely in our old age. The bellyrobbers have taken clothes from our backs. We slept in subway toilets here In Arkansas we picked fruit. I followed the crops north and dreamed of a warmer sun. We lived on and hoped. We lived on garbage dumps. Two of us found canned prunes, ate them and were poisoned for weeks. One died. Now I can't die. But we gave up to despair and life took quiet years. We worked a little. Nights I drank myself insensible. Punched my own mouth. Yes, first American ancestors and me. The circle's complete. Running away, stealing away to stick the ostrich head in sand. Living on a boat as night watchman, tied to shore, not here nor there! The American jitters! Idealism! (Punches himself violently.) There's for idealism! For those blue-gutted Yankee Doodle bastards are making other wars while we sleep. And if we remain silent while they make this war, we are the guilty ones. For we are the people, and the people is and the government, tear them down from their high places if they dast do what they did in 1914 to '18. (Slowly sits tremblingly.)
pike (in direct answer): Well, Gus is out there taking a shave.
Leo: Two and three in the morning sometimes I find him shaving in front of the mirror.
Pike: He wants to look good.
Leo: But three in the morning? For whom?
Pike: Man has to have something.
Leo: Tell me, my friend. You went around the country many times. You saw many kinds of people. Deep down in their cellars -- (pike starts eating and cracking nuts from bowl at elbow.)
Gus (entering): I shave and it come right out again.
sweet
frank (beginning to undress -- putting his coat on the back of a chair) No, I'm tired. I'll see you in the morning, before I leave.
Carp: Going away again?
Frank: South. Tex-tiles. There's hell down there in tex-tiles. (He sits on the other side of the room and looks at a paper.)
Carp: I don't begin to understand it -- tex-tiles! What's it his business if the workers in tex-tiles don't make good wages!
Mr. Bonaparte: Frank, he fight-a for eat, for good life. Why not!
<3
Joe: With music I'm never alone when I'm alone -- Playing music ... that's like saying, "I am man. I belong here. How do you do, World -- good evening!" When I play music nothing is closed to me. I'm not afraid of people and what they say. There's no war in music. It's not like the streets. Does this sound funny?
Lorna: No.
Joe: But when you leave your room ... down in the street ... it's war! Music can't help me there. Understand?
Joe: What's on your mind, Lorna?
Lorna: What's on yours?
Joe (simply): You ... You're real for me -- the way music was real.
Joe: He's a manager! He treats me like a possession! I'm just a little silver mine for him -- he bangs me around with a shovel!
Lorna: He's helped you --
Joe: No, Tokio's helped me. Why don't you give him up? It's terrible to have just a Tuesday-night girl. Why don't you belong to me every night in the week? Why don't you teach me love? ... Or am I being a fool?
Joe: [...] Why can't you leave him? Why?
[...]
Lorna: Because he needs me and you don't ---
Joe: That's not true!
Lorna: Because he's a desperate guy who always start out with two strikes against him. Because he's a kid at forty-two and you're a man at twenty-two.
Joe: You're sorry for him?
Lorna: What's wrong with that?
Joe: But what do you get?
Lorna: I told you before I don't care.
oh girl
Moody: (after a brooding pause): I'll tell you something, Lorna. I'm not overjoyed the way Joe looks at you.
Lorna: How's he look?
Moody: As if he saw the whole island of Manhattan in your face, and I don't like it.
Lorna: You thought of that too late.
Tokio: [...] Why don't you forget Lorna?
Joe (as if not understanding): What?
Tokio: I'll say it again ... why not forget her? (No answer comes.) Joe, you're loaded with love. Find something to give it to. Your heart ain't in fighting ... your hate is. But a man with hate and nothing else ... he's half a man ... and half a man ... is no man. Find something to love, or someone. [...]
Joe: But my hands are ruined. I'll never play again! What's left, Lorna? Half a man, nothing, useless ...
Lorna: No, we're left! Two together! We have each other! Somewhere there must be happy boys and girls who can teach us the way of life! We'll find some city where poverty's no shame -- where music is no crime! -- where there's no war in the streets -- where a man is glad to be himself, to live and make his woman herself!
<3