C.J.: Dad... you... cannot expect me to silently do nothing. You're going to require care.
Tal: I wasn't built for it. You came for the prom, not for this.
C.J.: Reunion. I'm not going.
Tal: Coward. That world, the expertise, the solicitude, no. No, thanks. I want to go down with some silence, with my music, with some grace.
C.J.: I'll quit and take care of you.
Tal: 'We sail,' said Pascal, 'in a vast sphere,' Claudia Jean, 'ever drifting in uncertainty, driven from end to end.' I'd much rather see you on TV, darling, than sitting opposite me, watching a demolition derby going on in my brain.

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