Christian Bale: …Although you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours. I simply am not there…

Christian’s Mother: Thanks for…telling us that, honey.

Christian: You like Huey Lewis and the News? Their early work was a lit–

Mother: No I prefer good music.

Christian: You didn’t let me finish…

Christian’s Sister: Say bro, got any Dunkaroos I can snack on?

Christian: You’re going to have the roasted duck with peanut butter soup. New York Matinee called it a playful, but mysterious little dish.

Sister: Nah, that sounds pretty bad

Christian (mutters): You’re a f*cking ugly bitch. I want to stab you to death. Then play around with your blood.

Sister: WHAT? Did… did you think we couldn’t hear that for some reason? Cause we totally could.

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