Those roads provided breath-taking views. There's something special about an empty road going on and on and on to the horizon where the sun burns the world away into a dancing, shmmering heat haze that reflects the crystal blue sky, literally blurrin...
Ben: To your health. Frank Booth: Ah, shit, let's drink to something else. Let's drink to fucking. Yeah, say, "Here's to your fuck, Frank." Ben: If you like, Frank. Here's to your fuck.
Paul: You ever been to pussy heaven? Jeffrey Beaumont: [nervous tone] No. Frank Booth: What did he say? Paul: [sarcastic tone] He said, "Uh, no." Raymond: Nope. Never been to pussy heaven. [All laugh]
Frank Booth: Who are you? Jeffrey Beaumont: I'm... just a neighbor. Frank Booth: What's your name, neighbor? Jeffrey Beaumont: Jeffrey. Dorothy Vallens: He's a good kid, Frank. Frank Booth: [to Dorothy] Shut the fuck up!
Cindy: [Cindy runs to the car while Dean saunters] Fuck! Give me the keys. I fucking want a divorce! [Dean pauses, sucks his ring finger, removes his ring and throws it into the bushes]
Kid Blue: [Waving his gun] Know why they call that peashooter of yours blunderbuss? Because it's impossible to hit anything farther than 15 yards. Impossible to miss anything closer. It's a gun for fuck-up turkeys.
Cypher: I know what you're thinking, 'cause right now I'm thinking the same thing. Actually, I've been thinking it ever since I got here: Why oh why didn't I take the BLUE pill?
[first lines] Shuttle captain: Command station, this is ST321, code clearance blue. We're starting our approach; deactivate the security shield.
Rhythm and blues started even before phonograph records were being produced because black people entertained themselves. It wasn't done for money. It was done for entertainment. Most white people didn't know anything about this because prejudice kept...
People's mouse clicks decide what businesses, services, and content succeed. Users have equal access to tiny businesses with viral ideas and blue-chip companies, allowing these enterprises to compete on their own merits. It's how so many small start-...
A picture of me as this super affable sales guy gets painted, but in actuality, I'm pretty driven by hard work and love working with teams. What people discount is, I grew up in a very small blue-collar town in Massachusetts and have basically scrapp...
As soon as I started writing the first batch, I had a vision. I saw me on stage playing a certain type of music. I want to take these blues melodies over aggressive guitars. I heard the sound I wanted to make. I knew what I wanted to do. It wasn't ev...
I wouldn't call myself a synaesthete in the sense that Nabokov was. But I'll talk about a sound as being cold blue or dark brown. For descriptive purposes, yes, I often see colors when I'm listening to music and think, 'Oh, there's not enough sort of...
It's always difficult to define what jazz is or what jazz isn't. To me, the only definition that I can think of is it's music where a lot of different elements are played at the same time. The harmonic, the melodic... You're pushing the boundaries on...
When I was a teenager, I really didn't like loud rock music. I listened to jazz and blues and folk music. I've always preferred acoustic music. And it was only, I suppose, by the time Jethro Tull was getting underway that we did let the music begin t...
Enzo: You were right. Jacques: About what? Enzo: It's much better down there... It's a better place... Jacques: no... Enzo: Push me back in the water... Jacques: No, I couldn't... Enzo: Jacques... Take me back down... Please...
Johanna: You really send him under the ice? He isn't a slave or convict or anything, is he? Dr. Laurence: My dear, science is a cruel mistress. Johanna: How is he going to breathe? Dr. Laurence: He isn't.
[Enzo pulls out a whiskey flask in a diving bell] Noireuter: Is that alcohol? That's *really* forbidden! Enzo: Hey, do you have any more complaints? Just make a list and we'll stick it on the porthole, OK?
Mère Emma: Shall we toast? [pauses] Mère Emma: To love. Emma: [laughing] To love. Adèle: To love. Mère Emma: Welcome Adèle. Adèle: Big words. To love. Mère Emma: Yes, to love, my love.
The blues are intent and watchful. “You’re trying to get me to change my mind, aren't you?” “Lilah, I constantly hope that you are going to change your mind, but I know you well enough to know that you won’t.” I just nod at him.
There are so many cruel decisions parents have to make when their child dies. The funeral director requested a sheet for the coffin, and I sent the cozy flannel one, pale blue with happy snowmen, that had just been put away with the winter linens.
