023. Truth is like a blanket

Dead Poets Society

- A sweaty-toothed madman with a stare that pounds my brain. 

- Oh, that's excellent. Now, give him action. Make him do something. 

- H-His hands reach out and choke me. 

- That's it. Wonderful. Wonderful.

- And, and all the time he's mumbling. 

- What's he mumbling? 

- M-Mumbling, "Truth. Truth is like, like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold." 

- Forget them, forget them. Stay with the blanket. Tell me about that blanket. 

- Y-Y-Y-You push it, stretch it, it'll never be enough. You kick at it, beat it, it'll never cover any of us. From the moment we enter crying to the moment we leave dying, it will just cover your face as you wail and cry and scream. 

- Don't you forget this.