I'm a Hollywood kid, and I know that there are only so many stories. Only so many tales around the campfire that we have to tell. Then we have to regurgitate them. Our grandparents' movies were all remakes of silent films - we forget that, but it's t...
Vern: [after dropping his hamburger in the campfire by accident] This isn't funny! What am I supposed to eat? Teddy: You could cook your dick. Chris: It'd be a small meal.
Are you going to tell me what that was about?” Adam asked as we went back upstairs. “Sometime,” I told him. “When we're telling ghost stories around a campfire, and I want to scare you.
I’d like to sit around a campfire with a couple of cowboys and argue over who’s going to turn on the stove.
I have mostly been terrified of listening to scary stories around a campfire. We camp a lot as a family, and at night my dad would try and tell us scary stories. This made eating s'mores difficult. The story would start with something like... 'and th...
I think one of the great problems we have in the Republican Party is that we don't encourage you to be nasty. We encourage you to be neat, obedient, loyal and faithful and all those Boy Scout words, which would be great around a campfire but are lous...
Joe Franklin: [reporting on the Ghostbusters] Well, everybody's heard ghost stories around the campfire. Heck, my grandma used to spin yarns about a spectral locomotive that would rocket past the farm where she grew up! But now, as if some unforeseen...
We retell our favorite stories. That's what we've done since we were sitting around campfires. It's a part of the human spirit. It doesn't have to be negative to creativity. It can be completely opposite. That's how you can break new ground: by rethi...
Buzz Lightyear: Don't worry, Woody. In just a few hours you'll be sitting around a campfire with Andy making delicious hot Schmoes. Woody: [lamely] They're called "S'mores", Buzz. Buzz Lightyear: Yes, yes. Of course.
I’ve found newspapers only useful as kindling material for campfires. It’s been said that newspaper articles are written at a fifth grade reading level. If so, I can’t figure out why journalists would write something that the average high schoo...
That evening we sat around the campfire. The clouds that had gathered overhead all day broke up and the moonlight shimmered on the Cocus River. The current glittered a silvery reflection. Nor was the Jungle dark. Hundreds of fireflies danced about - ...
Heart lesson #3: post-heartbreak survival. The heart is resilient, I mean literally. When a body is burned, the heart is the last organ to oxidize. While the rest of the body can catch flame like a polyester sheet on campfire, it takes hours to burn ...
All this, and discontent too! Otherwise, why am I sitting here dreaming of England? Why am I gazing at this campfire like a lost should seeking a hope when all that I love is at my wingtips? Because I am curious. Because I am incorrigibly, now, a wan...
I turned and found Dionysus standing there, still in his black suit. Walk with me,” he said. Where to?” I asked suspiciously. Just to the campfire,” he said. “I was beginning to feel better, so I thought I would talk with you a bit. You alway...
The incident with Dawn hadn't been one of my finer moments. I honestly hadn't expected to break any bones when I shoved her into a tree. Still, the incident had given me a dangerous reputation. The story had gained legendary status, and I liked to im...
We're never alone. As soon as we step outside the campfire glow, our Muse lights on our shoulder like a butterfly. The act of courage calls for infallibly that deeper part of ourselves that supports and sustains us.
To witness the awe of human beings delighting in their own hands forming the written word was humbling and he understood it profoundly at that moment watching those two, with the ancient land around them, in their traditional robes and the resting ca...
there grew up around the campfires stories of a great silver stallion seen galloping over wind-packed snow way up on the Ramshead Range; of a ghost horse that drank at the Crackenback River; of a horse that all men thought was dead appearing in a bli...
Everyone ate as a group, and a huge cauldron of dumpster-dived gruel bubbled over a campfire, tended by a grubby-handed group of chefs dicing potatoes and onions on a piece of cardboard on the ground. Huck [Finn] may have been right that a 'barrel of...
You see, women are like fires, like flames. Some women are like candles, bright and friendly. Some are like single sparks, or embers, like fireflies for chasing on summer nights. Some are like campfires, all light and heat for a night and willing to ...
We smoked fat cigars by the campfire and they tasted like wood and ash. The inhale and exhale was exciting. Blowing smoke rings in the calm forest air was followed by a deep swallow of cheap beer, and this too was exciting. There was no judgment in t...
