The Moth (107)
House Of The Rising Sun
Raised By Another
All the Best Cowboys Have Daddy Issues
Whatever The Case May
Hearts And Minds
... In Translation
Deux Ex Machina
Do No Arms
The Greater Good
Born To Run
Man of Science, Man of Faith
Everybody Hates Hugo
... And Found
The Other 48 Days
What Kate Did
The 23rd Psalm
The Hunting Party
Fire & Water
The Long Con
One of Them
The Whole Truth
Two for the Road
Live Together, Die Alone
A Tale of Two Cities
The Glass Ballerina
Every Man for Himself
The Cost of Living
Not in Portland
Flashes Before Your Eyes
Stranger in a Strange Land
Tricia Tanaka is Dead
The Man from Tallahassee
CHARLIE: It's been a week since my last confession.
PRIEST: Go ahead, my son.
CHARLIE: Last night I had ... physical relations with a girl I didn't even know.
PRIEST: I see. Anything else?
CHARLIE: Yeah. Uh, right after that, I had ... relations with another girl. Then straight after that, I watched while they had ... relations with each other. You see, it's my band, father -- Driveshaft. We've been playing the clubs in Manchester, and, uh ... we've been getting some heat, a following, you know, and ... the girls -- there's some real temptations that come with the territory, if you know what I mean.
PRIEST: Well, we all have our temptations, but giving into them --that's your choice. As we live our lives, it's really nothing but a series of choices, isn't it?
CHARLIE: Well, then I've made my choice. I have to quit the band.
CHARLIE: Did you hear what I said? I want my drugs back! I need them!
LOCKE: Yet you gave them to me. Hmm.
CHARLIE: And I bloody well regret it! I'm sick, man! Can't you see that?
LOCKE: I think you're a lot stronger than you know, Charlie. And I'm gonna prove it to you. I'll let you ask me for your drugs three times. The third time, I'm gonna give them to you. Now, just so we're clear, this is one.
CHARLIE: Why? Why? Why are you doing this? To torture me? Just get rid of them and have done with it.
LOCKE: If I did that, you wouldn't have a choice, Charlie. And having choices, making decision based on more than instinct is the only thing that separates you from him.
SAYID: Three antennae. Three points of a triangle. One here on the beach. Another Kate will position in the jungle roughly two kilometers in. And the third, I'll take to high ground -- up there. If the French transmission is coming from somewhere within our triangulation, I'll be able to locate the source. But there are two complications.
BOONE: Of course there are.
SAYID: The power cells I crafted onto the antennas are dry. There's no telling how long they'll last. A minute, maybe more, maybe less.
KATE: So we have to wait until we're in position before we switch them on?
BOONE: Well, w-wait a second. How are we gonna be able to tell that we're actually in the right position? We have no way to communicate with each other.
KATE: Bottle rockets?
SAYID: Thank God for fireworks smugglers. Now, when I'm in position, I'll fire off my rocket. When you two see it, you fire yours. As soon as the last one has gone up, we'll all switch on our antennas.
KATE: Okay, but you said that there are two complications.
SAYID: The battery in the transceiver is dead. Without the transceiver, all of this is for nothing. Something from a laptop computer would probably work, but I've not been able to find anything.
KATE: I think I might know where to look.
KATE: You've been hoarding like a pack rat since the crash, and you don't have a single laptop?
SAWYER: We are testy. Still upset about your little breakup? You and Jacko?
KATE: Must be exhausting.
SAWYER: What's that?
KATE: Living like a parasite. Always taking, never giving.
SAWYER: Boy, you've got me pegged, don't you?
KATE: I get it now. You don't want off this island because there's nothing for you to go back for. Nobody you miss. And no one misses you.
SAWYER: Oh, are you feeling sorry for me?
KATE: I don't feel sorry for you. I pity you.
SAWYER: All you had to do was say "please."
KATE: What we're doing -- chasing some phantom distress signal -- what are the odds of this working?
SAYID: No worse than the odds of our surviving that plane crash.
KATE: People survive plane crashes all the time.
SAYID: Not like this one. The tail section broke off when we were still in the air. Our section cartwheeled through the jungle, and yet we escaped with nothing but a few scrapes. How do you explain that?
KATE: Blind dumb luck.
SAYID: No one's that lucky. We shouldn't have survived.
CHARLIE: I want my stash, Locke. I can't stand feeling like this.
LOCKE: Come here. I'm gonna show you something. What do you suppose is in that cocoon, Charlie?
CHARLIE: I don't know, a butterfly, I guess.
LOCKE: No, it's much more beautiful than that. That's a moth cocoon. It's ironic. Butterflies get all the attention, but moths -- they spin silk. They're stronger, they're faster.
CHARLIE: That's wonderful, but --
LOCKE: You see this little hole? This moth's just about to emerge. It's in there right now, struggling. It's digging its way through the thick hide of the cocoon. Now, I could help it -- take my knife, gently widen the opening, and the moth would be free. But it would be too weak to survive. Struggle is nature's way of strengthening it. Now, this is the second time you've asked me for your drugs back. Ask me again, and it's yours.
MICHAEL: Okay, we can't safely make that tunnel any bigger, but since Jack can't get out, one of us is gonna have to go in and unpin him.
HURLEY: What, crawl through that?
BOONE: I think he means someone smaller.
CHARLIE: I'll do it.
MICHAEL: No, man, look, you're still too shook up. I might be able to squeeze --
CHARLIE: Wait. Who's gonna take care of your son if something happens? She's got a husband. He's got a sister. I'm alone here. No one on the island. Let me do this.
SAWYER: So what is it about that guy?
SAWYER: What is it about him that makes you all ... weak in the loins?
KATE: You try to be a pig, or it just come naturally?
SAWYER: So he's a doctor, right? Yeah, ladies dig the doctors. Hell, give me a couple of band-aids, a bottle of peroxide, I could run this island, too.
KATE: You're actually comparing yourself to Jack?
SAWYER: Difference between us ain't that big, Sweetheart. I guarantee you if he had survived a few more weeks on this island, you'd have figured that out.
KATE: What did you just say?
SAWYER: Ah, damn. Didn't I tell you? Word from the valley is Saint Jack got himself buried in a cave-in.