“The prosthetics came up onto the lip and feathered onto the lip, so it was almost halfway into the mouth, and, of course, when you speak, the feathering of the prosthetics became loosened, and the last thing Heath wanted to do was to go back and spend another 20 minutes or half an hour trying to get the lips glued back again. So he licked his lips… a lot, and then, slowly, that became a part of the character.” –
Gerry Grennell, Heath Ledger’s dialect coach
I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you’re always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call. But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.