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I recognise Santangelo's dad, who saves police brutality for when he gets to his son.

Melina Marchetta

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Melina Marchetta
Age: 59
Born: 1965
Born: March 25
Screenwriter
Writer
Sydney
NSW
Carmelina Marchetta
Brutality
Recognise
Police
Dad
Son
Gets
Saves

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It is what a man does for strangers that counts more than what he does for his family.
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It's like geographical humor. You just don't get it unless you were there.
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She's tired and leans her head on his shoulder, which is the resting place for all their heads, but when Justine and Siobhan and Francesca use his body so shamelessly he doesn't feel the need to turn his head and press his mouth against their hair.
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A home to come back to every day of their lives. Where they would all belong or long to be. A place on the Jellicoe Road.
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We look at each other for a moment and for once I feel awkward. It's not that I'm not into humility I've just never had to practise it.
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This is what I know. I look like my father. My father disappeared when he was seventeen years old. Hannah once told me that there is something unnatural about being older than your father ever got to be. When you can say that at the age of seventeen, it's a different kind of devastating.
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Left alone with the dial tone...excuse me, operator, why is no one listening?
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Everyone had told him to be strong for her, but Finnikin didn't know how to be strong for himself.
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Causing a riot is what I do best.
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We're so different. You're an intellectual. I'm an idiot. Don't say that, I yelled. You're not an idiot, you stupid idiot.
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So why would I want someone to be my everything when one day they might not be around? Jellicoe Road
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Up in the distance the whistle of the wind sang to her from the mountain. From Lucian’s mountain. It beckoned and taunted and she wanted to run towards it. To be enveloped in its coat of fleece and to hear its safe sounds.
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What if she's all I give you in this life of ours, my love? she asked quietly. Then I'll shout at the goddess in fury, he said fiercely. I'll beg to know why I've been given so much when other men have so little.
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What are you so sad about? We're going to know him for the rest of our lives.
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Do something that scares you everyday.
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If something happened to me, whose face will be on the front page of the paper begging for me? Is a person worth more because they have someone to grieve for them?
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You're judging her by her literacy, Tara says. You're a literacist. You've made that up.
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Josie, life is not a Mills and Boon book. People fall out of love. People disappoint other people and they find it very hard to forgive.
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Our bodies aren't strangers,' he said, his voice ragged. 'Our spirits aren't strangers'. He held her face in his hands. 'Tell me what part of me is stranger to you and I'll destroy that part of me.' And she wept to hear his words.
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A piece of me is gone, she told me once while we were bra shopping. I think we're made up of all these different pieces and every time someone goes, you're left with less of yourself.
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