While writing 'Cold Mountain,' I held maps of two geographies, two worlds, in my mind as I wrote. One was an early map of North Carolina. Overlaying it, though, was an imagined map of the landscape Jack travels in the southern Appalachian folktales. ...
Still In the fall, I believe again in poetry if nothing else it is a movement of the mind. Summers ball together into sticky lumps, spring evenings are glass beads from one mould for standard-size youth, winter a smooth heaviness, not even cold. But ...
The pity in Matt’s eyes was almost too much to bear but she found herself unable to turn away. She had only seen that look once and that was when he almost lost Nichole. The sparkle in his eye burned out as if it was nothing more than a dying ember...
This is what reading is like to me. It's finding a spring in the midst of a barren land. Just when I think I might up and die of thirst, I stumble onto this fresh, cold water, and I'm suddenly given this new life because I can-and do-drink to my hear...
the cold winds of insecurity... hadn't shredded the dreamy chrysalis of his childhood. He was still immersed in the dim, wet wonder of the folded wings that might open if someone loved him; he still hoped, probably, in a butterfly's unthinking way, f...
Yes, I do believe in something. I believe in being warm-hearted. I believe especially in being warm-hearted in love, in fucking with a warm heart. I believe if men could fuck with warm hearts, and the women take it warm-heartedly, everything would co...
Moon is a shining ball, from the window on my wall. Moon is blemish-laden, from the terrace of my mansion. Moon is a cold flame, from the porthole of my airplane. Yet I have heard, Moon is muse to philosophy brothers, Moon is nurse to romantic lovers...
Clark: Whew, it's warm in here. Mary: Well you have your coat on. Clark: Ah yes I do, why is that? Mary: Because it's cold out. Clark: Yes it is, it's a bit nipply out. I mean nippy out, what did I say, nipple? Huh, there is a nip in the air.
Cherry: Look, you were being an unbelievable dick. I was walking out on you. I was cold, I took your fucking jacket. So, if you're go on one of your psycho, obsessive, controlling rants about a fucking jacket, then fucking take it 'cuz I'd rather fuc...
Percy: [When Bard approaches Laketown in his ship] Halt! Goods inspection. Papers please!... Oh, it's you, Bard! Bard the Bowman: Morning, Percy. Percy: Anything to declare? Bard the Bowman: Nothing. But I am cold and tired, and ready for home. Percy...
Javert: I am reaching but I fall, and the stars are black and cold, as I stare into the void, of a world that cannot hold. I'll escape now from that world; from the world of Jean Valjean. There is nowhere I can turn. There is no way to go on! [Jumps ...
Maggie Fitzgerald: Did you see the fight? Eddie Scrap-Iron Dupris: Of course I did. You had her cold, Maggie. Maggie Fitzgerald: I shouldn't have dropped my hand. I shouldn't have turned. Always protect myself... how many times did he tell me that?
Diane Court: Are you shaking? Lloyd Dobler: No. Diane Court: You're shaking. Lloyd Dobler: I don't think so. Diane Court: You're cold. Lloyd Dobler: I don't think I am. Diane Court: Then why are you shaking? Lloyd Dobler: I don't know. I think I'm ha...
Jöns: Love is as contagious as a cold. It eats away at your strength, morale... If everything is imperfect in this world, love is perfect in its imperfection. Blacksmith Plog: You're happy, you with your oily words. You believe your own twaddle. Jö...
Rooster Cogburn: Give me your cup. Mattie Ross: I don't drink coffee, thank you. Rooster Cogburn: Well, now, what do you drink? Mattie Ross: I'm partial to cold buttermilk. Rooster Cogburn: Well, we ain't got none of that. We ain't got no lemonade ne...
Patrick Bateman: There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you c...
Jack Twist: Why is it always so friggin' cold? We oughta go south where it's warm, you know, we oughta go to Mexico! Ennis Del Mar: Mexico? Hell Jack, you know me, about all the travelin' I ever done is round a coffee pot lookin' for the handle.
I've been singing properly every day since I was about fifteen or sixteen, and I have never had any problems with my voice, ever. I've had a sore throat here and there, had a cold and sung through it, but that day it just went while I was onstage in ...
Still there are moments when one feels free from one’s own identification with human limitations and inadequacies. At such moments, one imagines that one stands on some spot of a small planet, gazing in amazement at the cold yet profoundly moving b...
'Master Harold' is about me as a little boy, and my father, who was an alcoholic. There's a thread running down the Fugard line of alcoholism. Thankfully I haven't passed it on to my child, a wonderful daughter who's stone-cold sober. But I had the t...
Outside our consciousness there lies the cold and alien world of actual things. Between the two stretches the narrow borderland of the senses. No communication between the two worlds is possible excepting across the narrow strip. For a proper underst...
