Matthew: I believe that we should live with truth and hope, not fear.
Ransom: Pretty words, the last thing we need.
Matthew: Tell me what you do need.
Ransom: Remorse, Matthew! If I could just believe for one second that you comprehend what we lost.
Matthew: I am sorry for what happened
Ransom: NO!! It didn't happen to us! It was done to us! Now, if you can't understand that.
Matthew: Malachi Smith. Friendly, big smile. He was walking down Bourbon Street. He stopped for a cigarette, and I killed him. Suzette Boudreaux. Beautiful blonde hair. Spoke immaculate French. I pretended to be lost. She gave me directions. And I killed her. Sun Gren LaChalet. She would often visit the San Luis Cemetery. Someone she cared about was laid to rest there. And on a rainy Sunday afternoon, that's where I killed her.