To die... to sleep... to sleep, perchance to dream; ay, there's the rub... Ha ha... rub! For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come... must give us pause... make us bear those... uh, I've forgotten. Huh... I know I'm depressed about something. Uh-ba-da-da... mother: dead.... no, father dead, mother alive, kind of a sexy thing with the mom, uncle; probably killed my father, girlfriend: crazy as a loon, her father's a chatterbox, I killed him... ah, this is all too complicated
Phil:: Defend the bear, Birdman. And don't forget, I'll be keeping my eyes on you. Harvey: Eye. Phil:: I didn't know you were Scottish!