Colm: Ah, well, I suppose niceness doesn't last then, does it, Padraic? But will I tell ya something that does last?

Pádraic: What? And don't say somethin' stupid like music.

Colm Doherty: Music lasts.

Pádraic: Knew it!

Colm: And paintings last. And poetry lasts.

Pádraic: So does niceness.

Colm: Do you know who we remember for how nice they was in the 17th century?

Pádraic: Who?

Colm: Absolutely no one. Yet we all remember the music of the time. Everyone, to a man, knows Mozart's name.

Pádraic: Well, I don't, so there goes that theory. And anyway, we're talkin' about niceness. Not what's his name. My mammy, she was nice. I remember her. And my daddy, he was nice. I remember him. And my sister, she's nice. I'll remember her. Forever I'll remember her.

Colm: And who else will?

Pádraic: Who else will what?

Pádraic: Remember Siobhan and your niceness? No one will. In 50 years' time, no one will remember any of us. Yet the music of a man who lived two centuries ago...

Pádraic: "Yet" he says, like he's English.

Siobhan: Come home, Padraic.

Pádraic: I don't give a feck about Mozart. Or Borvoven. Or any of them funny name feckers. I'm Pádraic Súilleabháin. And I'm nice.