A plum does not resent the hungry man, but the farmer who planted the tree.
He resents the... resents the farmer?
So how do plums have **** resentments now?
Oh. So it can resent?
Listen. The White Death is the farmer.
So we're the plums. We're the plums?
It don't make sense! Why are you mother****ers using metaphors? Look, HE SHOT MY BROTHER!
YOU SHOT MY SON! [pause, calmly] We prepare together, or we die alone.
That's... all I was trying to say.
