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Kinderman: The whole world is a homicide victim, Father. Would a god who is good invent something like death? Plainly speaking, it's a lousy idea. It's not popular, Father. It's not a winner.
Father Dyer: There you go, blaming God.
Kinderman: Who should I blame? Phil Rizzuto?
Father Dyer: You wouldn't want to live forever.
Kinderman: Yes, I would.
Father Dyer: No, you wouldn't. You'd get bored.
Kinderman: I have hobbies.
Father Dyer: There you go, blaming God.
Kinderman: Who should I blame? Phil Rizzuto?
Father Dyer: You wouldn't want to live forever.
Kinderman: Yes, I would.
Father Dyer: No, you wouldn't. You'd get bored.
Kinderman: I have hobbies.
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Kinderman: In the meantime, we have cancer and mong***id babies and murderers, monsters prowling the planet, even prowling this neighborhood. Father... right now, while our children suffer, and our loved ones die, and your god goes waltzing blithely through the universe like some kind of cosmic Billie Burke.
Father Dyer: Bill, it all works out right.
Kinderman: When?
Father Dyer: At the end of time.
Kinderman: That soon?
Father Dyer: No, we're going to be there. We're going to live forever, Bill. We're spirits.
Kinderman: How I would love to believe that.
Father Dyer: It's that kid that got killed on the dock, isn't it? I heard it on the news. You want to talk about it? You knew him.
Kinderman: Little bit. Police boys club. His name was Thomas... Thomas Kintry. Black boy, about 12 years old. The killer... drove an ingot into each of his eyes, then cut off his head. In place of his head was the head from a statue of Christ, all done up in blackface, like a minstrel show, you know, the eyes and the mouth painted white. Mr. Bones... The boy had been crucified... on a pair of rowing oars.
Father Dyer: Bill, it all works out right.
Kinderman: When?
Father Dyer: At the end of time.
Kinderman: That soon?
Father Dyer: No, we're going to be there. We're going to live forever, Bill. We're spirits.
Kinderman: How I would love to believe that.
Father Dyer: It's that kid that got killed on the dock, isn't it? I heard it on the news. You want to talk about it? You knew him.
Kinderman: Little bit. Police boys club. His name was Thomas... Thomas Kintry. Black boy, about 12 years old. The killer... drove an ingot into each of his eyes, then cut off his head. In place of his head was the head from a statue of Christ, all done up in blackface, like a minstrel show, you know, the eyes and the mouth painted white. Mr. Bones... The boy had been crucified... on a pair of rowing oars.