The Hours. 2002.
If I were thinking clearly, Leonard, I would tell you that I wrestle alone...
in the dark, in the deep dark and that only I can know...only I can understand my own condition.
You live with the threat, you tell me. You live with the threat of my extinction.
Leonard, I live with it too.
This is my right.
It is the right of every human being.
I choose not the suffocating anesthetic of these suburbs...
but the violent jolt of the capital, that is my choice!
The meanest patient, just even the very lowest, is allowed some say
in the matter of her own prescription.
Thereby she defines her humanity.
I wish, for your sake, Leonard, that I were happy in this quietness
but if it is choice between Richmond and death...
I choose death.
You cannot find peace by avoiding life, Leonard.
Dear Leonard, to look life in the face, always. To look life in the face, and to know it for what it is. At last to know it, to love it, for what it is. And then, to put it away.
Leonard, always the years between us, always the years, always the love, always the hours.
