Susan Orlean: YOU FAT PIECE OF SHIT. He's dead. Charlie Kaufman: Shut up. Susan Orlean: YOU LOSER. You've ruined my life, YOU FAT FUCK. Charlie Kaufman: FUCK YOU LADY. You're just a lonely, old, desperate, pathetic DRUG ADDICT.
Dennis Hope: [on the airplane which is caught in an electrical storm] I once hit a man in Dearborn, Michigan. A hit and run. I hit him and just kept on going. I don't know if he's alive or dead... but I'm sorry. Not a day goes by I don't see his face...
Anthony: [cheerfully] How's it going? Frank: How's it going? Anthony: Yeah, how do you feel? Frank: Well, my parents are dead. My wife is in an institution. My son has disappeared out west somewhere. [pause] Frank: I feel old and I feel swindled, tha...
Conklin: Where's your field box? Nicolette: It's right there. The system's gone haywire. That's this window right here. [She receives a message in her earlink] Nicolette: ...Dining room window? Damn, the phones are dead. [the power shuts down, the li...
All in a moment Hurlow forgot the beauty of the sounds and smelt fear. He smelt it as an animal smells it, the breath cold in his nostrils. He had read about Pan, a dead god who might safely be patronized while poring over a book in a London lodging,...
No one stays the same, David. Everything you are is a direct result of something that's affected you in your past, whether it was horrible or wonderful -- no one has the right to destroy themselves because they can't deal with the pain. You have to l...
I do an awful lot of thinking and dreaming about things in the past and the future - the timelessness of the rocks and the hills - all the people who have existed there. I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape - th...
Down every hall is a gruesome tangle of impossible creatures, and every one of them is split open or strung with barbs or dragging their insides after them, flailing along on shattered limbs or shredded wings or blasted stumps. I’ve got the pistol,...
By the time men get to be of our age, Mr. Vaiden, about all any new acquaintance can do is to remind them of somebody else. You know at times I have thought that is why we die. We become more and more intricately linked with the past, until finally w...
All America lies at the end of the wilderness road, and our past is not a dead past, but still lives in us. Our forefathers had civilization inside themselves, the wild outside. We live in the civilization they created, but within us the wilderness s...
Many theologians believe the Gospel writers include miracle stories in order to prove that Jesus is divine. But miracles are not proof of deity. Many Old Testament prophets heal people and even raise them from the dead, yet they are mere mortals. Jes...
The Doctor. He grabbed hold of Rory's ankle, dragging him protesting out from under the table. 'Rory!' he grinned, wrapping him in an enourmous bear hug that squeezed the breath out of him. 'I've been you!' 'Right,' mumbled Rory. 'You've had a gorgeo...
The fight unfolded like background noise. White noise. In the foreground, even with his ghastly pale face looking dead in my hands, my fingers clenching his ragged hair, all I could see was random images of Fang, Fang telling me stupid fart jokes fro...
Oh God, midnight’s not bad, you wake and go back to sleep, one or two’s not bad, you toss but sleep again. Five or six in the morning, there’s hope, for dawn’s just under the horizon. But three, now, Christ, three A.M.! Doctors say the body�...
Nancy: MOTHER! What's with the bars? Marge: Security. Nancy: Security? SECURITY FROM WHAT? Marge: Not from what: From whom. Come down to the cellar. You wanna know who Fred Krueger was? He was a filthy child murderer, who killed at least 20 kids in t...
I have a strange illusion quite often. I think I've become deaf. I have to make a little noise to prove I'm not. I clear my throat to show myself that everything is normal. It's like the little Japanese girl they found in the ruins of Hiroshima. Ever...
Media is an assemblage of tools with which to expand an audience's conception of what "the world" is to such and extent that their own lives and capabilities seem utterly insignificant; a means of psychological warfare by which people are overloaded ...
One glance at (a book) and you hear the voice of another person - perhaps someone dead for thousands of years. Across the millenia, the author is speaking, clearly and silently, inside your head, directly to you. Writing is perhaps the greatest of hu...
Right now, the economy is a whole lot like a fairly good-looking brain-dead chick in a persistent vegetative coma. You can't really wake her up, but there's things she's still good for.
We need the life… We need to know what we take left someone weaker or dead. It reminds us what we were. The Hunger when you start out, it isn't in the stomach or brain. You want to kill because you hate that others get to live.
Lorcan rubbed his head. “Am I asking too much to want the little bitch dead? Am I?” It seemed Hefaidd-Hen learned long ago not to answer certain questions. “All I want is for her to suffer a painful, horrifying death. And for her head to be on ...
