Jupiter Jones: Stinger said that you attacked an entitled once.
Caine Wise: Stinger talks too much.
Jupiter Jones: Is it true?
Caine Wise: Does it matter?
Jupiter Jones: Sorry, I get it’s none of my business. I was just trying to understand.
Caine Wise: Look, the truth is I don’t know why I did it. I. . .I don’t even remember doing it. It just happened.
Jupiter Jones: We all do things we can’t explain.
Caine Wise: They said it was in my genes. A defect of my genome engineering.
Jupiter Jones: Could explain a lot of things about me. Like the fact that I have an uncanny ability to fall for men that don’t fall for me. It’s like my internal compass needle points straight at Mr. Wrong. Maybe it’s my genes. Maybe I have defective engineering too. And if that’s the case is there any way to fix it?
Caine Wise: You are royalty now. I’m a splice. You don’t understand what that means, but I have more in common with a dog than I have with you.
Jupiter Jones: I love dogs, I’ve always loved dogs.
Robert Frobisher: Sixsmith. I climb the steps of the Scot monument every morning and all becomes clear. Wish I could make you see this brightness. Don’t worry, all is well. All is so perfectly, damnably well. I understand now that boundaries between noise and sound are conventions. All boundaries are conventions, waiting to be transcended. One may transcend any convention if only one can first conceive of doing so. Moments like this, I can feel your heart beating as clearly as I feel my own, and I know that separation is an illusion. My life extends far beyond the limitations of me.