“There has been a big debate about it: can a black man play a Nordic character? Hang about, Thor’s mythical, right? Thor has a hammer that flies to him when he clicks his fingers. That’s OK, but the colour of my skin is wrong?”—You tell ‘em, Idris Elba. (On playing Norse god Heimdall in the upcoming Kenneth Branagh-directed Thor movie.)
Spike: You listen to me. I’ve been alive a bit longer than you, and dead a lot longer than that. I’ve seen things you couldn’t imagine, and done things I’d prefer you didn’t. I don’t exactly have a reputation for being a thinker; I follow my blood, which does not always rush in the direction of my head. So I’ve made a lot of mistakes. A lot of wrong bloody calls. A hundred plus years, only one thing I’ve ever been sure of. You. Look at me. I’m not asking you for anything. When I tell you that I love you, it’s not because I want you, or ‘cause I can’t have you, it has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try… I’ve seen your strength, and your kindness, I’ve seen the best and the worst of you and I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You are a hell of a woman. You’re the one, Buffy.
Buffy: I don’t… I don’t want to be the one.
Spike: I don’t want to be this good-looking and athletic. We all have crosses to bear.