Denethor: (sobbing) Perhaps you come to explain this. Perhaps, you come to tell me why my son is dead.
Gandalf: My lord there will be a time to grieve for Boromir, but it is not now. War is coming! As Steward you are charged with the defence of this city! Where are Gondor's armies?
Denethor: (spitefully) You think you are wise Mithrandir. Yet for all your subtleties you have not wisdom! Do you think that the eyes of the white tower are blind? I have seen more than you know. With your left hand you would use me as a shield against Mordor and with your right you would seek to supplant me. Oh yes, I know who rides with Theoden of Rohan. News has reached my ears of this, Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, and I will tell you now I will not yield to this ranger from the North, last of a ragged house, long bereft of Lordship!
Gandalf: Authority was not given to you, to deny the return of the King; Steward!
Denethor: The rule of Gondor is mine! And no other's!