Thirtysomething (TV Series)
Second Look (1991)
Patricia Wettig: Nancy Krieger Weston
Quotes
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Gary Shepherd : Oh, you've got Alice in Wonderland.
Nancy Krieger Weston : No, I had Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. They were my favorites. But the kids, it was probably Ethan, I think he probably traded it for a bologna sandwich.
Gary Shepherd : I probably shouldn't admit this, but I've never read Through the Looking Glass.
Nancy Krieger Weston : Oh? You should. They're great. They're both... well, Alice was such a great heroine. She was so... plucky. And I loved the way she would get so big and then she'd get so little. I always wanted to do that. To find a magic bottle that said 'drink me.' Like now. I would love to find a little bottle or go through the Looking Glass.
Gary Shepherd : [looking at Nancy sympathetically] It's going to be okay, you know.
Nancy Krieger Weston : [reassuring] I know.
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Ethan : If you die will you go to Heaven?
Nancy Krieger Weston : I'm not gonna die.
Ethan : But if you did, would you go to Heaven?
Nancy Krieger Weston : I hope so.
Ethan : What's Heaven like?
Nancy Krieger Weston : I don't know. I guess it's whatever you want it to be like.
Brittany Weston : [shyly] Is there tv?
Nancy Krieger Weston : [making a face] Probably. PBS...
Ethan : In Heaven are you sick? Or all better?
Nancy Krieger Weston : [confidently] All better.
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Elliot Weston : Nancy?
[becoming alarmed seeing Nancy just standing at the window]
Elliot Weston : Nancy?
Nancy Krieger Weston : [turning to him] It's good news, Elliot. It's the best possible news. I just had to get up. I had to get up and look out and just see. I mean there's lights and there's the ice and it's sparkling and everything is shining and it's just a parking lot, isn't it? Isn't it?
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Nancy Krieger Weston : [reading the inscription Gary put in the book he got for her] 'To another Alice. See page three-forty-six. Love, Gary.'
Nancy Krieger Weston : [turning to the last page] 'In a wonderland they lie, dreaming as the days go by, dreaming as the summers die, ever drifting down the stream, lingering in the golden gleam... life, what is it, but a dream?'