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The Pianist
Thank God, not me. He wants us to survive. Well, that's what we have to believe.
Thank God, not me. He wants us to survive. Well, that's what we have to believe.
They're exterminating us.
Well, off they go to the melting pot.
Hope you played the piano better than you carry bricks.
It's the safest place to be. Right at the heart of the lion's den.
I'm cold.
It's a funny time to say this but I wish I knew you better.
He's a Jew! A Jew! Stop the Jew! Don't let him out! Stop him!
"If you prick us, do we not bleed? It you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?"
It's too absurd.
We can just stand here and talk. I think we're allowed to do that, don't you?
Dance!
You musicians don't make good conspirators. You're too... too... musical!
My pleasure. It won't help you anyway.
Germans never use Jewish toilets. They're too clean for them.
Music was his passion. Survival was his masterpiece.
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