Dorothy: What about the Spanish? Why did you pretend to only know Spanish?
Pepe: It's part of the image. Cuban boxers are supposed to know their right from their left, not much else.
Dorothy: And you think that we are that narrow-minded and prejudiced that we actually felt that way?
Pepe: You bought into it, didn't you? Hey, I didn't invent Kid Pepe. I just conformed to your image of a simple-minded Hispanic fighter. Well, I am a Cuban. But hath not a Cuban eyes? Hath not a Cuban hands? Organs? Dimensions? Senses? Affections? Passions? Fed with the same food? Hurt with the same weapons? Subject to the same diseases? Healed by the same means? Warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as you are? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? I also considered auditioning for the Actors Studio.
Sophia: Why does every fighter become an actor? Just once, I'd like it the other way around, if for no other reason than to see Chevy Chase get his butt kicked.