Marion Crane: Do you go out with friends?Norman Bates: A boy's best friend is his mother.
Norman Bates: Well, a son is a poor substitute for a lover.Marion Crane: Why don't you go away?Norman Bates: What, to a private island like you?Marion Crane: No, not like me.Norman Bates: I couldn't do that. Who would look after her? The fire in her fireplace would go out. It would be cold and damp up there like a grave. If you love sombody, you wouldn't leave them even if they treat your badly. Do you understand? I don't hate my mother. I hate at what she's become. I hate her illness.
I think I must have one of those faces you can't help believing.
She might have fooled me, but she didn't fool my mother.
