Ansiktet

Granny Vogler:
Why do you cry, my little ant?

Sanna:
Are you a witch?

Granny Vogler:
Perhaps I am.

Sanna:
I'm so scared of all that's happening and you're so old and ugly.

Granny Vogler:
You'll be ugly too when you're almost 200 years old.

Sanna:
Are you really that old?

Granny Vogler:
Yes, indeed.

Sanna:
Can you cast spells too?

Granny Vogler:
On occasion. But nowadays no one believes in my secrets, so I must be careful.

Granny Vogler:
I see what I see, and I know what I know. But nobody believes me.

Johan Spegel:
I've prayed for just one thing in my life. "Use me. Make me your servant." But God never understood what a strong devoted slave I was. So I went unused. That's a lie too, by the way. One goes step by step into the darkness. The movement itself is the only truth.

Dr. Vergerus, Minister of Health:
I'll tell you a secret. I've struggled all evening with an inexplicable sympathy for you and your husband.

Manda Vogler:
That doesn't sound likely.

Dr. Vergerus, Minister of Health:
I took an immediate liking to you. Your faces, your silence, your natural dignity. I only admit the deplorable fact because I'm tipsy.

Manda Vogler:
Then leave us alone.

Dr. Vergerus, Minister of Health:
I can't.

Manda Vogler:
Why not?

Dr. Vergerus, Minister of Health:
Because you represent what I despise most of all. The inexplicable.

Granny Vogler:
Gash in the eye, blood in the mouth, fingers gone, and broken neck. He calls you down, he calls you out, beyond the dead, beyond the living, the living dead, with their upraised hands...

Johan Spegel:
Let us rest a moment and breathe. Twilight is falling and this is the last day of life. I've always longed for a knife, a blade to lay bare my entrails, set my brain and heart free, free from my substance and cut away my tongue and my manhood. A sharp blade that would scrape out all uncleanliness. Then the so-called spirit would rise up from this meaningless carcass.

Johan Spegel:
The author presumes there's a great general thing called truth somewhere out there. That theory is pure illusion.

Johan Spegel:
You want to record the precise moment. Observe carefully. I will keep my face open to your curiosity. What am I feeling? Fear and well-being. Now death has reached my hands, my arms, my feet, my belly. I can't see anymore. I'm dead. You're wondering. I'll tell you. Death is...

Tubal:
Good evening little maids. My name is simply Tubal, simple as a a folk tune.

Sofia Garp:
One can sense Mr. Tubal's supernatural powers.

Tubal:
Yes, indeed.

Sofia Garp:
It's a wonderful gift.

Tubal:
But heavy and hard to bear, Sofia.

Sofia Garp:
Gracious, Mr. Tubal! It makes one hot under the corset, yet cool at the same time.

Sara Lindqvist:
Quiet. He's predicting the future.

Tubal:
Quiet, quiet, quiet. I see a light. Now it's been put out. It's dark. I hear sweet words of love. No, I can't repeat them. My sense of decency forbids me. A young man rides at full gallop. It's beautiful. Sara, my child, before you go celebrate your feast of love, take a few drops of our love potion. Your delight will be multiplied sevenfold. It's a gift from Venus Aphrodite. Tubal is but her humble messenger.

Tubal:
We're out of love potion. What now?

Granny Vogler:
Take this one, for colic and bunions. What matters is how the bottle looks and how the potion tastes.

Tubal:
Venus Aphrodite touches their hearts with her fingertips and sets the devil loose!

Sara Lindqvist:
What a life you lead, Mr. Simson.

Simson, the coach driver:
Travel, performances, parties, a life of luxury.

Sara Lindqvist:
And you meet beautiful women, of course.

Simson, the coach driver:
Women are drawn to magic, Sara. Especially beautiful, hot-blooded women of instinct. Sometimes we even have to fight them off. I remember a Russian princess with green eyes and a lily-white bosom.

Simson, the coach driver:
One learns not to run around picking every flower by the wayside.

Sara Lindqvist:
You can at least smell them.

Simson, the coach driver:
I just bend over the fragile petals and then move on.

Sara Lindqvist:
Why do you talk so much?

Sara Lindqvist:
You don't seem very experienced, dear Simson.

Ottilia Egerman:
I've longed for you. My thoughts have been constantly with you. I've lived your life. Yet today's the first time I've laid eyes on you. Perhaps you're silently laughing at me. It doesn't matter. My love is strong enough for the both of us. Now I understand why you've come. Feel how my heart is beating. You're here to explain why my child died. What God meant. That's why you've come. To ease my sorrow and lift the burden off my shoulders.

Johan Spegel:
I didn't really die, yet I've already begun haunting people. Actually, I think I make a better ghost than human being. I'm finally convincing. Something I never was as an actor. A shadow of a shadow. Don't be concerned for my sake, sir. I've already begun to decompose.

Manda Vogler:
Nothing is true.

Manda Vogler:
It's meaningless.

Dr. Vergerus, Minister of Health:
So I can put my mind at ease?

Manda Vogler:
Yes, put your mind at ease. We can demonstrate our incompetence as often as you like.

Dr. Vergerus, Minister of Health:
You seem to regret the fact and wish it were otherwise. But there are no miracles. It's always the props and the patter that must do the work. The clergy's in the same sad boat. God is silent while men babble on.

Manda Vogler:
If just once...

Dr. Vergerus, Minister of Health:
That's what they all say, "If just once..." For the nonbelievers, but especially for the believers. "If just once..."

Manda Vogler:
If just once... It's true.

Simson, the coach driver:
Having second thoughts?

Sara Lindqvist:
Second thoughts? I made no promises.

Simson, the coach driver:
You sure seemed eager last night.

Sara Lindqvist:
You trying to embarrass me? Yesterday was yesterday, and today is Sunday.