- Why did you come?

Our last conversation, the one in which you told me what it was you didn't like about me, never really concluded... as you ran away... I should be allowed to tell you what I don't like about you... that I believe would be a rule of polite conversation

- So what is it? What is it, the thing, the thing that you don't like about me?

It was a word you used that provoked me, you called me arrogant, but that is exactly what I don't like about you... it's you that is arrogant

- I'm not the one passing judgement, daddy, you are!

You do not pass judgement, because you sympathize with them. A deprived childhood and a homocide really isn't necessarily a homocide, right? the only thing you can blame is circumstances. Rapists and murderes may be the victims according to you... but I, I call them dogs. And if they're lapping up their own vomit, the only way to stop them is with a lash.

- But dogs only obey their own nature so why shouldn't we forgive them?

Dogs can be taught many useful things, but not if we forgive them everytime they obey their own nature.

- So I'm arrogant, I'm arrogant because I forgive people...?

My God! Can't you see how condescending you are when you say that. I mean you have, you have this preconceived notion, that nobody, listen, that nobody can't possibly attain the same high ethical standards as you, so you exonerate them. I cannot, I cannot think of anything more arrogant than that! You, my child, my dear child, you forgive others with excuses that you would never in the world permit for yourself

- Why shouldn't I be merciful? why?!

No, no, no, you should, you should be merciful when there's time to be merciful. But you must maintain your own standards... you owe them that, you owe them that. The penalty you deserve for you transgression, they deserve for their transgressions.

- They're human beings, dad

No, no, no: but does every human being need to be accountable for their actions? of course they do. You don't even give them that chance! and that is extremely arrogant! I love you, I love you, I love you to death, but you are the most arrogant person I've ever met, and you call me arrogant? Listen, power is... is not so bad, I am sure that you can find a way to make use of it in your own fashion. Take a walk, and think about it...

- The people who live here.... are doing their best under... very hard circumstances

If you say so, Grace, but is their best... really good enough?

---- Start Narrator
Grace looked around at the frightened faces behind the window panes that were following her every step, and felt ashamed of being part of inflicting that fear. How could she ever hate them, for what was at bottom merely their weakness? She would probably have done things like those that had befallen her if she had lived in one of these houses. To measure them by her own yardstick, as her father put it, would she not in all honesty have done the same as Chuck Veira and Ben, and Mrs Henson, and Tom? and all these people in their houses? Grace paused, and while she did, the clouds scattered and let the moonlight through. And Dogville underwent another of those little changes of light. It was as if the light, previously so merciful and faint, finally refused to cover up for the town any longer. Suddenly you could no longer imagine a berry that would appear one day on a Gusberry bush, but only see the thorn that was there right now. The light now penetrated every uneveness and floor in the buildings and... in the people. And all of a sudden she knew the answer to her question all too well: if she had acted like that, she could not have defended a single one of her actions and could not have condemned them harshly enough. It was as if her sorrow and pain finally assumed their rightful place. No: what they had done was not good enough! And if one had the power to put it to rights it was one's duty to do so. For the sake of other towns, for the sake of humanity, and not least for the sake of the human being that was Grace herself.
----End Narrator