- Henry Hill: [first lines - quoting] One of my wishes is that those dark trees, so old and firm they scarcely show the breeze, were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom, but stretched away unto the edge of doom. / I should not be withheld but that some day into their vastness I should steal away, fearless of ever finding open land, or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand. / I do not see why I should e'er turn back, or those should not set forth upon my track to overtake me, who should miss me here and long to know if still I held them dear. / They would not find me changed from him they knew - only more sure of all I thought was true. - Into My Own, Robert Frost, 1913
- Ward Hill: [last lines - remembering people] When have I ever heard you play?
- Cynthia: Don't push it.
- Charles Casper Hill: I'm not going to let you throw yours away on some crazy dream.
- Owen Cox: Relax with it. Play 'er like you would - a beautiful woman.