Andrei Rublev (Tarkovsky, 1966)
My name on the course parchment paper is meaningless before the word of god, my king. But how I hate him, the lounging beast who has forsaken me so. He has thrown me naked to the cold hand of winter, plague, and cruelties of men, to test a faith, or weaken it? Through a gauntlet I wander. I will not be beaten. I will spite my lord, and hate him through my love, through images splashed across walls, my blind and foolish faith, clouds my eyes. Though my feet stay frozen in the muck of his earth, I will not bend to a will, unfaithful to his word. I will not be subject. I will only follow. My spite, my fury in vivid color will fade long after my life has expired, and the eyes of so many will know my defiance.