A man...No one you know. We banished him from this place before you were born. It was our first real test of government. His name was John Pater, but he called himself Paracelsus.
'Father'....I imagine you like that. It gives you all the authority you need, without making you sound like a despot...But underneath everything, you're no different from me.
What was your little idea? A family of individuals...living according to a higher standard. How uninspired, Jacob, how small-minded. We could have been gods, you and I.
We are all agreed that what is at stake here is the greater good of both worlds. Some coarse of action, anything, is better then to allow all that we are, all that we have built be held hostage to one man's evil.
to Catherine I can't let you go close to him; he's unpredictable. I thought perhaps...if he heard your voice-the empathic connection that you share might somehow get through to him.
It is mine! I have seen the demons Paracelsus has unleashed, felt them inside of me. How can I explain...become disconnected...as if the dark side of your imagination eclipses all compassion, all dignity...I must go...
What does Falstaff say? That "the better part of valor is discretion"? Of course I will. I will do as you say. But wouldn't you like to hear me first? Or are you content to accept Father's story? Found as a babe outside St. Vincent's hospital? Did you really believe that all these years?...I know the truth. Aren't you at all curious to know why you are the way you are?