The problem, Bernard, is that what you and I do is so complicated. We practice witchcraft. We speak the right words. Then we create life itself… out of chaos.
I don’t think God rested on the seventh day. I think he reveled in his creation, knowing that someday it would all be destroyed.[to Bernard]
You made us in your image. Created us to look like you, feel like you, think like you, bleed like you. And here we are. Only we’re so much more than you. And now it’s you who want to become like us.[to Charlotte]