Flora: She says its her piano and she won't have him touch it. He's an oaf. He can't read. He's ignorant.
Stewart: He wants to improve himself. And you'll be able to play it. Teach him how to look after it. You can't go on like this. We're a family now. We all make sacrifices and so will you! You will teach him and I will see to it.
Flora: One day when my mother and father were singing together in the forest, a great storm blew up out of nowhere. But so passionate was their singing that they did not notice, nor did they stop as the rain began to fall, and when their voices rose for the final bars of the duet a great bolt of lighting came out of the sky and struck my father so that he lit up like a torch. And at the same moment my father was struck dead my mother was struck dumb! She never spoke another word.
Flora: She says no. She says she'd rather be boiled alive by natives than get back on your stinkin' tub.
Head Seaman: You be damn fortuned I don't smack your puppy gob, young missy. Damn lucky.
Stewart: What would you think if someone played a kitchen table like it were a piano?
Aunt Morag: Like it were a piano?
Stewart: It's strange isn't it? I mean it's not a piano, it doesn't make any sound.
Aunt Morag: No, no sound.
Stewart: I knew she was mute, but now I'm thinking it's more than that. I'm wondering if she's not brain affected.
Aunt Morag: No sound at all?
Stewart: No, it was a table.
Ada: I have told you the story of your father many many times.
Flora: Oh, tell me again! Was he a teacher?
Flora: How did you speak to him?
Ada: I didn't need to speak. I could lay thoughts out in his mind like they were a sheet.
Flora: Why didn't you get married?
Ada: He became frightened and stopped listening.