Dr. Emmett Brown: Let me show you my plan for sending you home. Please excuse the crudity of this model. I didn't have time to build it to scale or paint it. [reveals intricate tabletop model of the town square] Marty McFly: [impressed] It's good.
[Lotte comes home late at night] Craig Schwartz: You were him, weren't you? Lotte Schwartz: Yeah. Craig Schwartz: And he was with her! Lotte Schwartz: We love her, Craig. Craig Schwartz: We? Lotte Schwartz: John and me.
Bruno: Shmuel. Can we go to the café or something? Shmuel: Café? Bruno: [pause] Maybe I should go home. Shmuel: What about Papa? Bruno: [after looking around] Yeah. Shmuel: We'll check our hut first.
William Wallace: Lower your flags and march straight back to England, stopping at every home you pass by to beg forgiveness for a hundred years of theft, rape, and murder. Do that and your men shall live. Do it not, and every one of you will die toda...
Michael Oher: [after pushing an opponent all the way off the field] Sorry, Coach. I stopped when I heard the whistle. Coach Cotton: Where were you taking him? Michael Oher: The bus. It was time for him to go home.
We make a home for ourselves, every time we work on something: actors, writers, singers, building these little nests in our gypsy souls, in place of the ones we so seldom seem to make in our own lives. And then suddenly it's over, and we have to star...
The first meeting-houses were often built in the valleys, in the meadow lands; for the dwelling-houses must be clustered around them, since the colonists were ordered by law to build their new homes within half a mile of the meeting-house.
The dog leash was still tied tight around the oak tree in the back, stretched worn and limp across the green grass as if trying to escape to freedom; and he buried his wife without a tombstone. Where before, she sat most times in his home, licking he...
What are you going to do with astronauts who first reach the surface of Mars and then turn around and rocket back home-ward? What are they going to do, write their memoirs? Would they go again? Having them repeat the voyage, in my view, is dim-witted...
A lot of people say there's a fine line between genius and insanity. I don't think there's a fine line, I actually think there's a yawning gulf. You see some poor bugger scuffling up the road with balloons tied to his ears, he's not going home to inv...
Cities offer us powerful leverage on our most stubborn, wasteful practices. Long commutes in our cars, big power bills from our energy-hogging buildings, shopping trips to buy stuff that'll spend a few short months in our homes and long centuries in ...
God is not someone you meet when you die. His smiling face will be the first and the most familiar to greet you on the other side of mortality. You’ll recognize Him and know in your heart of hearts that you’re not entering a new sphere, but retur...
Listen, there is no way any true man is going to let children live around him in his home and not discipline and teach, fight and mold them until they know all he knows. His goal is to make them better than he is. Being their friend is a distant seco...
Personally I like going places where I don't speak the language, don't know anybody, don't know my way around and don't have any delusions that I'm in control. Disoriented, even frightened, I feel alive, awake in ways I never am at home.
...I swear Dev your cock is going to be the death of us all.' Dev just sat back and smiled unrepentantly. 'I beg to differ. My cock is like a finely tuned homing device. He led me straight to the person I needed to see. His judgement is infallible...
After a while I can’t bring myself to keep up the charade any longer, I disappear and fade into a background where I sit awith a glass of bubbly thinking about other things mostly when this party would end so I could go home and be miserable there.
That is how it is with lies. If you can have enough people believe your lies, before you know it, even the one you have lied against will be confused. The lie will make itself at home and the truth will be knocking outside its own door.
For the last four years of her life, Mother was in a nursing home called Chateins in St. Louis ... [S]ix months before she died I sent a Mother's Day card. There was a horrible, mushy poem in it. I remember feeling "vaguely guilty.
There is too much pain in the world,in all shapes and forms.That is what these people represent.Pain from losing their homes,the death of a loved one,failing an exam,having a leg amputated,not getting a resident permit after years of hoping for a bet...
Cinderella was the first fairy tale I remember - the one I was most obsessed with because of the gowns and magic and pretty shoes. Yes, her home life was less than ideal - and considering the talking mice and birds, she probably needed serious therap...
Oh, I don't know. I prefer to think that when they're at home, the Silent Brothers are much like us. Playing practical jokes in the Silent City, making toasted cheese-" "I hope they play charades," said Tessa Dryly. "It would seem to take advantage o...
