As I went through 'This Progress,' one of two performance pieces by Tino Sehgal that transform Frank Lloyd Wright's emptied-out spiral into a dreamy Socratic-purgatorial journey, the museum literally fell away. I was suspended in some weird nonspace.
Chris: How do you know if a Frenchman has been in your backyard? Teddy: Hey, I'm French, okay? Chris: Your garbage cans are empty and your dog's pregnant. [Chris and Gordie laugh] Teddy: Didn't I just say I was French?
Nadi: [In Farsi] I dreamt of a bird trapped in our empty house, it was trying to find a way out. It fluttered around hitting the walls. I could feel the air from the wings on my face. I opened the window... and it flew away. Behrani: Drink this.
[McCauley calls Van Zant on the phone] Roger Van Zant: What are you doing? Neil McCauley: What am I doing? I'm talking to an empty telephone. Roger Van Zant: I don't understand. Neil McCauley: 'Cause there is a dead man on the other end of this fucki...
[Joshua blasts his way into Murtaugh's house and finds it empty. In the living room, 1951's "Scrooge" is playing on the television] Ebeneezer Scrooge: Tell me, what day is it? Mrs. Dilber: What day? Mr. Joshua: [shoots the television] Goddamn Christm...
French Soldier: I don't want to talk to you no more, you empty-headed animal food trough wiper! I fart in your general direction! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!
Nemo age 16: [narrating] Probably the worst thing about being on Mars is that nothing will happen there. Time will seem stale and empty. Man: [looking out over Mars] It doesn't look like there is much to do. I hope I brought enough Sudoku.
Eve Kendall: I tipped the steward five dollars to seat you here if you should come in. Roger Thornhill: Is that a proposition? Eve Kendall: I never discuss love on an empty stomach. Roger Thornhill: You've already eaten! Eve Kendall: But you haven't.
Tallahassee: There's a box of Twinkies in that grocery store. Not just any box of Twinkies, the last box of Twinkies that anyone will enjoy in the whole universe. Believe it or not, Twinkies have an expiration date. Some day very soon, Life's little ...
Alvy Singer: I think, I think there's too much burden placed on the orgasm, you know, to make up for empty areas in life. Pam: Who said that? Alvy Singer: It may have been Leopold and Loeb.
[at Paul Allen's apartment, empty and painted white] Real estate agent: You saw the ad in the Times? Patrick Bateman: No... Yeah, I mean yeah, in the Times. Real estate agent: There was no ad in the Times. I think you should go now.
If I do three interviews in a day, I can be exhausted, because the process of hearing everyone requires that I empty out myself. While I'm listening, my own judgments and prejudices certainly come up. But I know I won't get anything unless I get thos...
The world's an incessant transformation, and to meditate is awareness, with no clinging to, no working on, the mind. It is a floating; ever-moving; 'marvellous emptiness'. Only absorption in such a practice will release us from the accidents, and app...
Give winter nothing; hold; and let the flake Poise or dissolve along your upheld arms. All flawless hexagons may melt and break; While you must feel the summer's rage of fire, Beyond this frigid season's empty storms. Banished to bloom, and bear the ...
Life and stories are alike in one way: They are full of hollows. The king and queen have no children: They have a child hollow. The girl has a wicked stepmother: She has a mother hollow. In a story, a baby comes along to fill the child hollow. But in...
I have become a sour woman. I take no joy in meat nor mead, and song and laughter have become suspicious strangers to me. I am a creature of grief and dust and bitter longings. There is an empty place within me where my heart was once.
The woman is not just a pleasure, nor even a problem. She is a meniscus that allows the absolute to have a shape, that lets him skate however briefly on the mystery, her presence luminous on the ordinary and the grand. Like the odor at night in Pitts...
Blaise decided that the thing he would remember most about this London was the sour stink of it. The overripe foulness of the streets made him gag, and when a woman emptied a chamber pot from a top window, nearly catching him in its spray, he bent ov...
(regarding the prelude from suite two)... The key is minor, the three notes a tragic triad. The tones move closer and closer to a harrowing vision, weaving spiter-like, relentlessly gathering sound into thighter concentric circle that come to an abru...
A Paradox, the doughnut hole. Empty space, once, but now they've learned to market even that. A minus quantity; nothing, rendered edible. I wondered if they might be used-metaphorically, of course-to demonstrate the existence of God. Does naming a sp...
It all fell away then – the control, the independence . . . everything. She had known it would never be easy to find solitude . . . to find herself. Not in this city, where appearances were everything; where emptiness filled luxurious landscapes ti...
