Leggenda del pianista sull'oceano, La
1998
Max: What is wrong with you? 1900: I can't help it. Music makes me cry.
Max: I often thought about him during the war; if only 1900 were here, who knows what he'd do, what he'd say. 'Fuck war' he'd say, but somehow, coming from me it wasn't the same.
1900: And fuck jazz, too.
1900: Hey, Max, gimme a cigarette, will you? Max: (bitterly) You're not handling this well. 1900: (calmly) Just gimme a cigarette. Max: (matter of factly) You don't smoke. What is the matter with you? You could lick this guy with one hand, come on! 1900: (getting agitated) You gonna gimme a cigarette? Max: (emphatically) We're gonna be chucking coal a couple a hundred years and all you can say is - 1900: Give me a *fucking* cigarette, will you? (Max throws him a cigarette angrily)
Jelly Roll Morton: (Jelly Roll Morton enters the hall for the duel, meeting 1900 for the first time) I believe you're sitting in my seat. 1900: (stands, good-naturedly) You're the one that invented jazz, right? Jelly Roll Morton: That's what they say. And you're the one who can't play without the ocean under his ass, right? 1900: That's what they say. (moves to shake hands, but gets snubbed)
Jelly Roll Morton: (before starting his last piece for the duel-to 1900) You can stick this up your ass. 1900: (before starting his last piece of the duel-to Jelly Roll Morton) You asked for it, asshole.
1900: Winter comes, you wish it was summer. Summer comes, you live in dread of winter. That's why we never tire of travel.