"I love you."
"You admire me, I think. That’s not love. I feel the contempt you have for me. That little piece of you that doesn’t like me at all."
"Contempt is strong."
"Yes, maybe it is. You’re disappointed, then. Disappointed that I’m not a better person, that I’m spoiled, that I was born ‘favored’ as you put it. I’m spoiled and you can’t love me because of it."
"Liz, you know I don’t blame your father’s money on you. It isn’t an issue."
"There it is, Silas. My father’s money. As if it’s somehow a living thing. The bastard you want to ignore, something I should be ashamed of. I understand your anger. Because of the way you grew up; it shaped who you are, and still, I love you. Because of who you are. Because I don’t care about the stuff that you had no control of when you born."
"I more than admire you, Liz, you know that."
"Yes, I think so. Part of you does, at least. But it’s still less than love isn’t it, Silas? Goodbye."