John Gavin e Vera Miles.
Sam: Marion, you want to cut this off--go out and find yourself somebody available?
Marion: I'm thinking of it.
Sam: How could you even think a thing like that!
Marion: Don't miss your plane.
Sam:Hey, we can leave together, can't we?
Marion:Hm-mm. I'm late, and uh, you
have to put your shoes on. (She exits.)
Norman: Mother! Oh God! Mother! Blood! Blood!
Anthony Perkins.
Mother´s Voice:
It's sad when a mother has to speak the words that
condemn her own son.
But I couldn't allow them to believe that I would commit murder. They'll put him away now as I should have years ago. He was always bad, and in the end he intended to tell them I killed those girls and that man.
As if I could do anything except just sit and stare--like one of his stuffed birds. Well, they know I can't move a finger. And I won't. I'll just sit here and be quiet, just in case they do suspect me.
They're probably watching me. Well, let them. Let them see what kind of person I am.
A fly has landed upon his hand, which rests in his lap.
I'm not even going to swat that fly. I hope they are watching. They'll see. They'll see, and they'll know, and they'll say... (as he slowly raises his eyes to meet ours, smirking) 'Why, she wouldn't even harm a fly!'
Is it our imagination, or does Norman's smile begin to morph into his
mother's dead grin, as we fade to the final shot of Marion's car being hauled
from the quicksand?