Barton Fink | 1991

Kissing it all good-bye. These four stinkin' walls,

six flights up,

the el that roars by at 3 a. m.

Like a cast-iron wind.

Kiss 'em good-bye for me, Maury.

I'll miss 'em... like hell I will.

Dreamin' again.

Not anymore, Lil. I'm awake now,

awake for the first time in years.

Uncle Dave said it...

"Daylight is a dream

if you live with your eyes closed. "

Well, my eyes are open now. I see the choir.

I know they're dressed in rags,

but we're part of that choir.

Yeah, both of us,

and you, Maury, and Uncle Dave.

Sun's comin' up, kid.

They'll be hawkin' the fish

down on Fulton Street.

Let 'em hawk.

Let 'em sing their hearts out.

That's it, kid.

Take that ruined choir. Make it sing.

So long, Maury.

So long.

We'll hear from that kid,

and I don't mean a postcard.

Fish!

Fresh fish!

Let's spit on our hands and get to work.

It's late, Maury.

Not anymore, Lil.

It's early.

Bravo!

Bravo!

Bravo!

Bravo!