Andrew Largeman: I'll be fine. Am I the first boy you've ever brought home? Sam: No, but I lied to you before when I told you that my boyfriend drives a Ninja. Andrew Largeman: He doesn't drive a bike? Sam: No, I don't have a boyfriend. But, you know...
Mark: Silent velcro. You lucky mother fucker. Andrew Largeman: I feel like if I would shown up at school and presented the idea of silent velcro they would have sent me away a whole lot sooner. Sam: Why did they send you away? Jesse: Ooh, listen to t...
[after getting dumped into a pond] Willie: [crying] I was happy in Shanghai! I had a little house, and a garden! My friends were rich, we went to parties all the time in limousines! I *hate* being outside! [Willie angrily splashes the water] Willie: ...
George Bailey: Now, will you do something for me? Zuzu Bailey: What? George Bailey: Will you try and get some sleep? Zuzu Bailey: I'm not sleepy. I want to look at my flower. George Bailey: I know-I know, but you just go to sleep, and then you can dr...
[a nightmare switches between a ladies' garden club and a Soviet/Chinese military hospital] Chairlady: You will notice that I have told them they may smoke. I've allowed my people to have a little fun in the selection of bizarre tobacco substitutes.....
Mike: Good morning, Roz, my succulent little garden snail. And who will we be scaring today? Roz: Wazowski! You didn't file your paperwork last night. Mike: Oh, that darn paperwork! Wouldn't it be easier if it all just blew away? Roz: Don't let it ha...
[last lines] Lt. General Frederick "Boy" Browning: I've just been on to Monty. He's very proud and pleased. Major General Urquhart: Pleased? Lt. General Frederick "Boy" Browning: Of course. He thinks Market Garden was 90% successful. Major General Ur...
Abraz: Bullshit. Who sent you here, boy? Did that chickenshit asshole Raphael send you, boy? Chance the Gardener: No. Mr. Thomas Franklin told me I must leave the old man's house. He's dead, you know. Abraz: Dead, my ass. You tell that asshole, if he...
High buildings fall, black oceans rise, and coins sink in height Where weapons smash in every grace, with every black and white The east drops, the west too, children die and so do old With every sin, and every crime, people drop by their gold The gr...
Literature for me… tries to heal the harm done by stories. (How much harm? Most of the atrocities of history have been created by stories, e.g., the Jews killed Jesus.) I follow Sartre that the freedom the author claims for herself must be shared w...
Amends Regret lingers, niggles. Yellow lilies on the table, gone brown in the vase. The garden we talk about, endlessly, but never begin, deterred by tough sod. On the edge of the walk, the wheelbarrow full of stones waits like an undelivered apology...
In the closed world of the gynaeceum, despite the gardens and parkland extending beyong the horizon, despite the insurmountable walls separating pavillions and palaces, the tangled web of our fate was inescapable. Why did these women love each other ...
...the concept of marketing is almost as old as humanity itself...suffice it to say here that it took almost no time for a wily serpent to sell Adam and Eve on a shiny apple from the Tree of Knowledge, at which point they became not only the first hu...
It is high time that we grew up and left the Garden. We are indeed Eden’s children, yet it is time to place Genesis alongside the geocentric myth in the basket of stories that once, in a world of intellectual naivete, made helpful sense. As we walk...
Jesus, who comes across in the Gospels as extraordinarily strong, begged in the garden, with drops of sweat like blood running down his face, that he might be spared the terrible cup ahead of him, the betrayal and abandonment by his friends, death on...
The problem is that the media rarely discusses the real reasons behind why women leave their jobs. We hear a lot about the desire to be closer to the children, the love of crafting and gardening, and making food from scratch. But reasons like lack of...
...it was my father who had taught me to love books for themselves, the smell of the vellum and paper, the rare authority of the pages. "Here, do you see this marvelous book, the skins of 182 sheep," he once pronounced as he slapped his hand down on ...
Mastema prefers absolutes. He wants fences on the world and everything in its place, neat and tidy as a churchyard garden. God is not like that. God is boundless. For all his wisdom, Mastema cannot comprehend Yahweh’s need for surprises. An omnisci...
Books were seen as a waste of time. What was the point, unless you were reading for information? To lose oneself in a book was to be slightly wacky, a little greedy and ultimately slothful. There was no value. You couldn't make money from reading a b...
Fred, George, Harry, and Ron were the only ones who knew that the angel on top of the tree was actually a garden gnome that had bitten Fred on the ankle as he pulled up carrots for Christmas dinner. Stupefied, painted gold, stuffed into a miniature t...
The subject of money was not mentioned again at the time, but when Miss Todd began going to Mrs Morland as secretary, she insisted on having an account from Dr Ford, much to his annoyance. He persuaded, he blustered, he was almost pathetic, but Miss ...
