Lester: My name is Lester Burnham. This is my neighborhood. This is my street. This is my life. I'm 42 years old. In less than a year, I'll be dead. Of course, I don't know that yet. And in a way, I'm dead already. That's my wife, Carolyn. See the way the handle on those pruning shears（修枝剪） matches her gardening clogs. Man, I get exhausted just watching her. She wasn't always like this. She used to be happy. We used to be happy. My daughter Jane. Only child. Janie's a pretty typical teenager, angry, insecure, confused. I wish I could tell her that's all going to pass, but I don't want to lie to her.

(Morning. Carolyn waits impatiently for Lester and Jane by the car.)

Carolyn: Jane, honey, are you trying to look unattractive?

Jane: Yes.

Carolyn: Congratulations, you've succeeded admirably. Lester, could you make me a little later please? Because I'm not quite late enough.

(Before stepping out of the gate, Lester falls the papers in his hands onto the ground.)

Jane: Nice going, Dad.

Lester: Both my wife and daughter think I'm this gigantic loser. And they're right. I have lost something. I'm not exactly sure what it is, but I know I didn't always feel this. Sedated. But you know what, it's never too late to get it back.