“They busted me, right enough. Still, I'd had my bit of fun. It ain't the first time I've been in a losing fight. It won't be the last, either, I don't suppose. How long have I been lying here? A week? I can't think. Mum called me barmy when I told her I fell off a gasometer for a bet. But I'm not barmy. I'm a fighting pip that wants a pint of beer, that's me. But if any bastard says that's me...
...I'll say I'm a dynamite dealer waiting to blow the factory to Kingdom Come.
I'm me and nobody else.
Whatever people say I am, that's what I'm not. Because they don't know
a bloody thing about me.
God knows what I am.”
Karel Reisz. “Saturday Night and Sunday Morning”. (1960)
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“Running’s always been a big thing in our family, especially running away from the police. It’s hard to understand. All I know is you’ve got to run, run without knowing why through fields and woods, and the winning post’s no end, even though barmy crowds might be cheering themselves daft. That’s what the loneliness of the long distance runner feels like.”
Tony Richardson. “The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner”. (1962) Один из лучших фильмов, что я видела.