- Georg: A man had died. He was to register in hell. He waited in front of a large door. He waited a day, two. He waited weeks. Months. Then years. Finally a man walked past him. The man waiting addressed him: Perhaps you can help me, I'm supposed to register in hell. The other man looks him up and down, says: But sir, this here is hell.
- Marie: The Forsaken never forget, you say. But that's not true. They have the beautiful, sad songs. With them is the compassion. Those who leave, there is nobody with them.They do not have songs.
- Georg: Then he thought, 'This is Marseille.' A port city. Port cities are cities, in which is told. That's what they're there for. And these people have the right to tell and that you listen inside.
- Georg: The song did not want to get out of his mind. Everything is dreaming. And everything is exchanged. Back in life again. The evening is already sitting on our house
- Georg: Their eyes met. For a long moment they looked at each other. Then they lowered their eyes. He knew what everyone was talking about and let go: It was the shame. They were ashamed. Shamed terribly.
- Georg: It was cold. The Mistral. He was tired. Nobody looked at him. That's the terrible thing. Not that she's your dirty face staring at the torn clothes.The terrible thing is that they are you do not see that you are not there.