Rumplestiltskin / Mr. Gold / Weaver

— You have your mother's chin, Ms. Swan.
— We know that you killed him.
— And your father's tact.

— Not as hard as the other mystery you've presented me. Why haven't I killed him?
— If it makes you feel any better, it wasn't for lack of effort. Let's just say we bury the hatchet.
— Yes. But why not in your skull?

– I want a baby. Will you help me, Mr. Gold?
– I'm flattered, but I guess I passed.
– That's not what we're talking about!

Nothing is innocent.

Regina. Shall I move some things, make a bit of space for your rage?

Magic can do much, but not that. Dead is dead.

— Who are you?
— Who are you?
— Cora.
— Not a very pretty name, is it? Sounds like something breaking.

Because no matter what you change of your past... one thing shall remain the same... Who you are. And that is a fate you can never escape.

— How did it feel?
— Watching the curse cloud form? Felt like victory.
— How did it feel to kill the thing you love most? Ripping the heart out of your father. How did that feel?
— It was the price of the curse. How it felt doesn't matter. He would've understood.

Conjuring magic is not an intellectual endeavor. It's emotion.