[Looking at the sunset]
Samuel Stote: It sure is pretty.
Arthur Burns: You can never get your fill of nature, Samuel. To be surrounded by it is to be stilled. It salves the heart. The mountains, the trees, the endless plains. The moon, the myriad of stars. Every man can be made quiet and complete. Even the lowliest misanthrope or the wretchedest sinners.
Samuel Stote: What's a misanthrope, Arthur?
Two Bob: Some bugger who ****ing hates every other bugger.
Samuel Stote: Hey, I didn't ask you, you black bastard!
Arthur Burns: He's right, Samuel. A misanthrope is one who hates humanity.
Samuel Stote: Is that what we are? Misanthropes?
Arthur Burns: Good Lord, no! We're family!
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