If I could just go back... if I could rub everything out... starting with myself.
I always thought it would be better to be a fake somebody than a real nobody.
You're the brother I never had. I'm the brother you never had. I would do anything for you, Dickie.
I really feel happy. As if I had been handed a whole new life.
I could live Dickie's life for him.
Well, whatever you do, however terrible, however hurtful, it all makes sense, doesn't it, in your head. You never meet anybody that thinks they're a bad person.
[while planning to kill Marge] And that's the irony, Marge. I loved you. You may as well know it, Marge: I loved you. I don't know... maybe it's grotesque of me to say this now, so just write it on a piece of paper or something and put it in your purse for a rainy day. 'Tom loves me.' 'Tom loves me.'
Why is it when men play they always play at killing each other?
Dick? Dickie? I know you can hear me. What am I doing, chasing you around...? I was going to say I would count to three and if you didn't open the door, but I won't count any more. On you. I won't count on you any more. Whatever it is, whatever you've done or haven't done, you've broken my heart. That's one thing I know you're guilty of, and I don't know why. [crying] I don't know why, I just don't know why...
Good things about Mr. Ripley? Could take some time. Tom is talented. Tom is tender... Tom is beautiful... Tom is a mystery. Tom is not a nobody. Tom has secrets he doesn't want to tell me, and I wish he would. Tom has nightmares. That's not a good thing. Tom has someone to love him. That is a good thing. Tom is crushing me. Tom is crushing me... Tom, you're crushing me!
I don't care for B.S. I don't care to hear it. I don't care to speak it.
Mr.Greenleaf also feels there was a silent promise in Dickie's letter to you which he intends to honor. He intends to transfer a good part of Dickie's income from his trust into your name. He doesn't intend on giving the Italian police any information about Dickie's past. He's rather hoping hoping you feel the same.
Dickie Greenleaf: Everybody should have one talent, what's yours?
Tom Ripley: Telling lies, forging signatures and impersonating almost anybody.
Dickie Greenleaf: That's three. Nobody should have more than one talent. So, do an impression.
Tom Ripley: What, now?
Dickie Greenleaf: Yeah.
Tom Ripley: [imitating Dickie's father] "The only talent my son has is for cashing his allowance."
Dickie Greenleaf: [stunned] What?
Tom Ripley: "Oh, I love to sail, believe me, I love to sail. Instead, I make sailboats, and other people sail them."
Dickie Greenleaf: Stop! It's too much. You're making the hairs on my neck stand up!
Tom Ripley: "Oh, yes, jazz? Let's face it, jazz is insolent noise."
Dickie Greenleaf: It's like he's here. Horrible, like the old bastard's here! That's brilliant! Brilliant! How do you know him?
Tom Ripley: Oh, I met him in New York.
Dickie Greenleaf: Marge, you have to hear this! This is scary. Marge Sherwood, I'd like you to meet my father, Herbert Richard Greenleaf, the First.
Tom Ripley: "How do you do, Marge. Dickie's made a fine catch. I know Emily thinks so."
Marge Sherwood: I... I don't get it.
Dickie Greenleaf: It's uncanny!
Tom Ripley: [turning to Dickie] "Could you ever conceive of going to Italy, Tom? Bring him back?"
Dickie Greenleaf: [confused] What?
Tom Ripley: "I'd pay you if you would go to Italy and persuade my son to come home. I'd pay you a thousand dollars."
Marge Sherwood: [about Tom] I like him.
Dickie Greenleaf: Marge, you like everybody.
Tom Ripley: [Imitating Marge's voice] I like him. [imitating Dickie's voice] Marge, you like everybody.
Tom Ripley: That ring is superb.
Marge Sherwood: Oh, Tom, I love you! See?
Dickie Greenleaf: I had to promise, capital p, to never take it off. Otherwise I'd give it to you.
Marge Sherwood: Isn't it great? I found it in Naples. I had to bargain for it for about two weeks!
Dickie Greenleaf: Uh, I hope it wasn't cheap, Marge?
Marge Sherwood: Oh, it was!
Tom Ripley: Nothing is more naked than your handwriting. See how nothing's quite touching the line? That's vanity.
Dickie Greenleaf: Well, we certainly know that that's true.
Freddie Miles: Oh God! Don't you want to fuck every woman you see just once?
Dickie Greenleaf: Only once?
Freddie Miles: Absolutely once. Ciao.
Dickie Greenleaf: Tom Ripley. Freddie Miles.
Freddie Miles: I mean, hey, if I'm late what would her husband say.
Dickie Greenleaf: You look gorgeous.
Freddie Miles: As always.
Marge Sherwood: The thing with Dickie... it's like the sun shines on you, and it's glorious. And then he forgets you and it's very, very cold.
Tom Ripley: So I'm learning.
Marge Sherwood: When you have his attention, you feel like you're the only person in the world, that's why everybody loves him so much. [bitterly] And that's just the boys...
Dickie Greenleaf: Did I know you at Princeton, Tom? I don't think I did.
Tom Ripley: I...
Dickie Greenleaf: I mean it as a compliment . You've got such great taste. Most of the thugs at Princeton have tasted everything and had no taste. I used to say , "The Cream of America: Rich and thick." Freddie's the perfect example.
Tom Ripley: Well... then, I'll take it as a compliment!
Dickie Greenleaf: Ha! I knew it! Marge and I had a bet! Do you even like jazz, or was that just for my benefit?
Tom Ripley: I've gotten to like it.
Dickie Greenleaf: Yes!
Tom Ripley: I've gotten to like everything about the way you live. It's one big love affair.
Tom Ripley: I want to tell you my plan.
Dickie Greenleaf: So tell me.
Tom Ripley: Well, I thought... I'd come back in the new year, under my own steam.
Dickie Greenleaf: Really? To Italy?
Tom Ripley: Of course. And I figured, just for argument's sake, say I got a place. Or say we split the rent on a house. I could get a job, or, better still, if I got a place in Rome, and then when we're there, we could be there, and when we're here, we could be here.
Dickie Greenleaf: [uncomfortable] I don't think so.
Tom Ripley: See, particularly with the Marge problem. You just blame me.
Dickie Greenleaf: Marge and I are getting married.
Tom Ripley: How?
Dickie Greenelaf: [laughs] How?
Tom Ripley: Yesterday, you were ogling girls on the terrace. Today you're getting married? That's absurd.
Dickie Greenleaf: I love Marge.
Tom Ripley: You love me. You're not marrying me.
Dickie Greenleaf: Tom, I don't love you.
Tom Ripley: No, I don't mean that as a threat.
Dickie Greenleaf: To be honest, I'm-I'm a little relieved you're going. I think we've seen enough of each other for a while.
Tom Ripley: What?
Dickie Greenleaf: You can be leech! You know that. It's boring. You can be quite boring.
Tom Ripley: The funny thing is I'm not pretending to be somebody else and you are...
Dickie Greenleaf: Boring.
Tom Ripley: I've been absolutely honest with you...about my feelings.
Dickie Greenleaf: Boring..
Tom Ripley: But you... first of all, I know there's something. That evening when we played chess, for instance, it was obvious.
Dickie Greenleaf: [scoffs] What evening?
Tom Ripley: Oh sure, no, no, it's too dangerous for you to take on. Oh, no, no, we're brothers. Hey. And then you do this sordid thing with Marge. Fucking her on the boat so we all had to listen. Which was excruciating! And you follow your cock around and now you're getting married! I'm bewildered, forgive me. You're lying to Marge and then you're getting married to her. You're knocking up Silvana. You're ruining everybody. You wanna play the sax, you wanna play the drums. I mean, which is it, Dickie? What do you actually play?!
Dickie Greenleaf: [enraged] Who are you? Huh? Some third class mooch? Who are you? Who are you to say anything to me? Who are you to tell me anything?! [slaps Tom in the face] Actually I really, really do not want to be on this boat with you. I can't move without you moving. And it gives me the creeps. You give me the creeps! I can't move without you moving...
Tom Ripley: Shut up...
Dickie Greenleaf: ...I can't breathe without you following me around! You move without [mocks Tom with a falsetto voice] "Dickie, Dickie, Dickie!", like a little girl all the time!
Tom Ripley: SHUT UP! [hits Dickie in the side of the face with the oar he just grabbed. Dickie grabs his face with both hands. Tom, shocked, puts the oar down] Oh God, Dickie...
Dickie Greenleaf: [with an unmarked cut on his face, suddenly split open causing his face to be disfigured with blood] For God's sake...
Tom Ripley: Oh, God! OK. OK. We have to get... OK.
[Dickie suddenly lunges at him]
Dickie Greeneleaf: You're dead! You're dead!
[Panicked, Tom hits Dickie several times with the oar, until he is finally still]
Tom Ripley': Stop it! Stop it!
Freddie Miles: In fact, the only thing that looks like Dickie is you.
Tom Ripley: Hardly.
Freddie Miles: Have you done something to your hair?
Tom Ripley: Freddie, do you have something you'd like to say?
Freddie Miles: What? I think I'm saying it. Something's going on. He's either converted to Christianity... or to something else.
Tom Ripley: I suggest you ask Dickie that yourself. Otello's is on delle Croce, just off the Corso.
Freddie Miles: Is it on [mocks Tom in an effeminate voice] "delle Croce, just off the Corso?" You're a quick study, aren't you? Last time you didn't know your ass from your elbow, now you're giving me directions. [sneers] That's not fair, you probably do know your ass from your elbow. I'll see you.
Peter Smith-Kingsley: Can you imagine, though, if he did kill Freddie, what that must be like? Just to wake up every morning. I mean, how can you? Just wake up and be a person? Drink your coffee?
Tom Ripley: Well, whatever you do, however terrible, however hurtful, it all makes sense, doesn't it, in your head? You never meet anybody who thinks they're a bad person.
Peter Smith-Kingsley: Well maybe, but you're still tormented. You must be. You've killed someone.
Tom Ripley: Don't you just take the past, and put it in a room in the basement, and lock the door and never go in there? That's what I do.
Peter Smith-Kingsley: God, yes. Though in my case, it's probably a whole building.
Tom Ripley: And then you meet someone special, and all you want to do is to toss them the key and say, open up, step inside. But you can't, because it's dark, there are demons... and if anybody saw how ugly it is...
Peter Smith-Kingsley: That's the music talking. It's hard to be gloomy if you're playing "Ease Up, Mother Brown". [takes Tom's hands and plays a more light-hearted tune]
Tom Ripley: I keep wanting to do that, fling the door open just let light in and clean everything out.
[Peter sits next to him, smiling warmly, but Tom pulls away]
Tom Ripley: See, the thing is, Peter...
Peter Smith-Kingsley: [sadly] No key.
[Marge has found Dickie's rings in Tom's pocket; Tom is about to kill her to keep her quiet]
Marge Sherwood: [terrified] I wasn't snooping. I was just looking for a needle and thread to mend my bra.
Tom Ripley: That scent you're wearing... I bought that for you, not Dickie. The thing about Dickie... so many things... That day when he was late coming back from Rome? I tried to tell you this. He was with another girl. I'm not talking about Meredith, either. Another girl who we met in a bar. He couldn't be faithful for five minutes. So when he makes a promise, it doesn't mean what it means when you make a promise, or I make a promise. He has so many realities, Dickie, and he believes them all. He lies, he lies, and that's his... and half the time he doesn't even realize he's doing it! Today, I actually started wondering if he may have actually killed Freddie.
[Marge notices that blood is seeping into Tom's robe pocket, obviously from a concealed knife]
Tom Ripley: He would get so crazy if anyone contradicted him — well, you know that. You know that. And that's the irony, Marge — I loved you. You may as well know that now. I loved you. I don't know, maybe it's grotesque of me to say that now, so... just write it on a piece of paper and save it for a rainy day. "Tom loves me." "Tom loves me."
Marge Sherwood: Why do you have Dickie's rings?
Tom Ripley: I told you. He gave them to me.
Marge Sherwood: Why? When?
Tom Ripley: I feel as if you haven't been listening to anything I've been saying.
Marge Sherwood: I don't believe you!
Tom Ripley: It's all true.
Marge Sherwood: I don't believe a single word you've said!
Tom Ripley: Marge, you're shivering, look at you. Can I hold you? Please, let me hold you.
[Marge screams in fright, when suddenly Peter walks through the door]
Marge: [running into his arms, sobbing] Oh, God, Peter! Get me out of here, get me out of here!
Peter Smith-Kingsley: Marge, what's going on? Tom, are you okay?
Tom Ripley You try. You try talking to her. I give up.
Marge Sherwood: Why do I think there's never been a Ripley rainy day?
Tom Ripley: What?
Marge Sherwood: [leans closer] I know it was you. You killed Dickie! I know it was you!
Peter Smith-Kingsley: Sorry, I'm completely lost.
Tom Ripley: I know. I'm lost. I'm going to be stuck in the basement, aren't I? [voice cracking] That's my, that's my... terrible, and alone, and dark, and I've lied about who I am, and where I am, and now no one will ever find me.
Peter Smith-Kingsley: What do you mean... lied about who you are?
Tom Ripley: [near tears] I always thought it'd be better to be a fake somebody than a real nobody.
Peter Smith-Kingsley: What are you talking about? You're not a nobody. That's the last thing you are.
Tom Ripley: Peter. Tell me some good things about Tom Ripley.
[Tom lays down next to Peter, preparing to strangle him]
Tom Ripley: No, no, don't get up. Just tell me nice things, some nice things about Tom Ripley.