- Gizella: [Narrating; scene shows her being lowered into a "therapy" tank of water at the asylum] I'll have you know that I am an arm of your God. God herself. I was the first living being. My upper part is the fiery sun, in the rays of which live the Souls of the Dead. The Sun is God itself. The Sun shoots off millions and millions of electric beams. Initially, as I became conscious, I started to revolve around myself. While circulating, an immense heat developed and compressed itself to Earth. This is how I created the Earth and the stars. I took God's name, but Evil resides in my cells. Yes, Evil is reigning over the world.
- Gizella: [Still narrating, as she is re-submerged in the therapy tank] I have an arm for every person through which I govern the world. These invisible arms arrange people's fate, their every step and smallest action. I'm an arm of your God.
- Dr. Brenner: [Narrating] October 13, 1913. Tuesday. A terrible and depressing thought: I no longer have any inclination to write. I feel no need of writing since I've been dealing with psychoanalysis. Yet analysis only brings suffering, bitter recognition, and disappointment, while writing brings the joy and sustenance I have always been longing for. Ever since I've been incapable of writing, I feel as if I'm not able to speak. I feel as if I've gone dumb.
- Professor Winter: [Preparing to administer a frontal lobotomy to a female patient; other medical staff of the asylum gather around him, observing this "revolutionary" treatment] The deranged mind is just like the mechanism of a broken clock. We must get rid of the faulty parts if we want it to work again. With this tiny operation, medical science can restore health to our hopelessly suffering patients. To put it frankly, we bring them oblivion, which frees them from their demons.
- Professor Winter: [Proceeds to strike the lobotomizing tool with a small hammer] The next step is that we sever the nerve and isolate the frontal lobe. In this way we terminate its connection to other parts of the brain, finally and irrevocably.
- Dr. Brenner: [On the train, after having had sex with a young woman, whose name he doesn't even know] As many times before, I was shocked by how swiftly a girl could be ruined, and turned into a woman, at least in spirit.
- Dr. Brenner: [Narrating, having administered himself a dose of morphine] The essence of life is such an expensive commodity, that through the centuries, entire generations receive a mere hour of it all told. He who accepts this accepts the fact that he must die even before he is born. But he, the one who has forever been obsessed with poison, should extract 14 hours to himself from every day. These 14 hours are equal to 8,000 years of life lived by 400 generations. But let's just say 5,000. Which means that in the course of just one day, I live 5,000 years. In one year, this comes to approximately two million years.
- Gizella: The Evil One is constantly rummaging around in me. He settles in my lower parts, enters my vagina. He wants me to serve him, to be his whore, whose lower parts will help him maintain his power. I don't want this delight, but I struggle against him in vain, my hands keep getting there.
- Professor Winter: [Reading aloud a passage from one of Dr. Brenner's short stories] "Assuming that you start smoking opium as a strong, mature man and pay meticulous attention to your health - best left to a good doctor - you can live ten years. And then, having reached the age of twenty million, you can lay your head down on the ice-cold pillow of perdition. Blaring accords of light roar unrestrained in the morning streets."
- Professor Winter: [Now addressing Dr. Brenner directly] If I understand correctly, this story is the confession of an opium smoker. Congratulations. You write extremely sensitively in your short story. Tell me, where did you get this insight from?
- Dr. Brenner: [Casually shrugging, obviously not wishing to reveal that he himself is an addict] I'm a doctor.
- Professor Winter: [Maintaining a cold air of skepticism] You write so authentically. I wonder if this is pure imagination. Or reality itself?
- Dr. Brenner: [Now becoming somewhat uncomfortable] Of course. It's just fantasy.
- Dr. Brenner: Your writings are very interesting. Do you know that?
- Gizella: I do.
- Dr. Brenner: How long have you been writing?
- Gizella: Since I was brought here.
- Dr. Brenner: Why were you brought here?
- Gizella: Because I'm mad.
- Dr. Brenner: And why did you go mad?
- Gizella: Why did I go mad?... Because I have no brain.
- Gizella: The Devil makes you an offer every day, again and again, that you should be his, and then your life will change into gold, and your sufferings will cease in an instant and you'll get everything you want: happiness and time. Endless time.
- Gizella: The Evil One doesn't gobble up your body in one go. He just eats little pieces of you, eating your flesh day by day, in tiny pieces. He wants to destroy you by slow torture because you rejected him.
- Professor Winter: Good evening. I finished your book the other day. I wasn't wrong. You're a monster.
- Dr. Brenner: I'm honored.
- Dr. Brenner: I am writing about Evil.
- Professor Winter: How interesting. Continue.
- Dr. Brenner: I'm getting acquainted with it.
- Professor Winter: You don't say. What's it like?
- Dr. Brenner: Dim... and strong.
- Professor Winter: And what about the plot?
- Dr. Brenner: The hero has to commit a sin to win the trust of Evil.
- Professor Winter: [Disdainfully] You writers... You infect people's souls with your scribbles.