[Withnail and Marwood are lying in bed together, listening to a man coming inside the cottage. Withnail is cowering under the covers] Withnail: [whispering] He's going into your room. It's you he wants. Offer him yourself. [the bedroom door slowly op...
Swan: [Deleted introductory scene in the subway] ... What's bugging you? You got a problem? Ajax: Yeah, I got a problem. I don't like what we're getting into. This whole thing stinks. Swan: We're going in there just like all the other guys. Ajax: Jus...
Tom: [Montage of Summer] I hate her crooked teeth. I hate her 1960s haircut. I hate her knobby knees. I hate her cockroach-shaped splotch on her neck. I hate the way she smacks her lips before she talks. I hate the way she sounds when she laughs. [Fa...
Carl Bernstein: I think it's Magruder. Bob Woodward: I think it's Magruder too. Carl Bernstein: Why do you think it's Magruder? Bob Woodward: Because he was second in command under Mitchell. Why do you think it's Magruder? Carl Bernstein: [Carl gets ...
Fran Kubelik: Would you mind opening the window? C.C. Baxter: Now don't go getting any ideas, Miss Kubelik. Fran Kubelik: I just want some fresh air. C.C. Baxter: It's only one story down. The best you can do is break a leg. Fran Kubelik: So they'll ...
Servant: [Presenting a gift] For the Tribune. With the compliments of Quintus Arrius. He awaits your pleasure. Messala: The consul here? Servant: It is Quintus Arrius the Younger, tribune. Messala: Thank him. Bring him to me. Drusus: I didn't know th...
[last lines] Ray: There's a Christmas tree somewhere in London with a bunch of presents underneath it that'll never be opened. And I thought, if I survive all of this, I'd go to that house, apologize to the mother there, and accept whatever punishmen...
When we read, we decide when, where, how long, and about what. One of the few places on earth that it is still possible to experience an instant sense of freedom and privacy is anywhere you open up a good book and begin to read. When we read silently...
WE ARE the creators of the seeds that we have planted in the past — whether they were happiness, comfort, abundance, prosperity, family, children, ideas, or even thoughts — that are giving birth into our world. Feel the arms of Mother Earth's bea...
There is a glimmer of metal that wavers between his thighs. He turns to face me. The balls of his large gauge nipple rings catch my eye as they glint in the light of the room. But, it is the tintinabular rings below that cause my eyes to descend to h...
I venture to suggest that the one vital quality which they had in common was spiritual receptivity. Something in them was open to heaven, something which urged them Godward. Without attempting anything like a profound analysis I shall say simply that...
To Your eyes a thousand years are like yesterday come and gone, no more than a watch in the night. You sweep men away like a dream, like grass which springs up in the morning. In the morning it springs up and flowers, by evening it withers and fades....
Half of me is filled with bursting words and half of me is painfully shy. I crave solitude yet also crave people. I want to pour life and love into everything yet also nurture my self-care and go gently. I want to live within the rush of primal, intu...
I stepped to the tank's edge, leaned in, and concentrated on keeping my eyes open. Which fish would be the shooter? The fish were all facing me, but one in particular seemed to be staring directly at my left eye, like a hunter targeting his prey. Wha...
Ed Rooney: Ahem... Mr. Peterson? Cameron: [clears throat] Uhum! Ed Rooney: Uhhm... you know, I-I think I owe you an apology, sir. Cameron: [disguised voice] Well I should say you do! Ed Rooney: I, uh... I-I-I... Cameron: [still disguised] Well, I thi...
She's finding it hard to cope - her hopes have been dashed, the future she dreamed about has gone and she's scared about that. There's nothing in its place. She wants you back. She doesn't want to let go of everything it meant to her. Because the w...
About the library," he whispered. He took out the pencil stub from his pocket and poised it over the page. "Will you write like Mr. Blake or like yourself?" I inquired. He wrote and whispered the words aloud as he did. "I am in the library. It smells...
On Love and Happiness:When someone embarks on his research, if he ever makes it, (there is, in addition, a contingency that he/she will never embark on it), then he sails on a journey, a course that incubates various events. It's like opening a preci...
New York! I say New York, let black blood flow into your blood. Let it wash the rust from your steel joints, like an oil of life Let it give your bridges the curve of hips and supple vines. Now the ancient age returns, unity is restored, The recocili...
Life was transparent, literature opaque. Life was open, literature a closed system. Life was composed of things, literature of words. Life was what it appeared to be: if you were afraid your plane would crash it was about death, if you were trying to...
We are only chance visitants to this jungle of blind mutations. The natural world existed when we did not, and it will continue to exist long after we are gone. The supernatural crept into life only when the door of consciousness was opened in our he...
