Ralphie as Adult: [narrating, after Mother breaks the Old Man's Major Award, and he is unsuccessful at repairing it] With as much dignity as he could muster, the Old Man gathered up the sad remains of his shattered major award. Later that night, alon...
Old Paul Edgecomb: They usually call death row the Last Mile, but we called ours the Green Mile, because the floor was the color of faded limes. We had the electric chair then. Old Sparky, we called it. I've lived a lot of years, Ellie, but 1935 take...
[first lines] Old Bilbo: My dear Frodo, you asked me once if I had told you everything there was to know about my adventures. And while I can honestly say I've told you the truth, I may not have told you all of it. I am old, Frodo. I am not the same ...
Sheryl: [to Frank] He started snorting heroin. Frank: [to Grandpa] You started snorting heroin? Grandpa: [in response to Frank, aimed at Dwayne] Let me tell ya, don't do that stuff. When you're young, you're crazy to do that shit. Frank: [to Grandpa]...
Old Man: You worry about yourself. Are you ready for him? [refers to Calvera] Old Man: What if he comes now, huh? Vin: Reminds me of that fellow back home that fell off a ten story building. Chris: What about him? Vin: Well, as he was falling people ...
Vin: Rojas is makin' room for you in his home. Old Man: Rojas? His conversation would bore me to death! Vin: Yeah, well, [sits on the wooden chair] Vin: maybe somebody else, huh? Old Man: hey are all farmers. Farmers talk of nothing but fertiliser an...
Carson Wells: I was wondering... Man who hires Wells: Yes? Carson Wells: Could you validate my parking ticket? Man who hires Wells: An attempt at humor, I suppose. Carson Wells: I'm sorry... You know, I counted the floors to this building from the st...
Carla Jean Moss: Llewelyn? Llewelyn Moss: Yeah? Carla Jean Moss: What are you doing, baby? Llewelyn Moss: I'm going out. Carla Jean Moss: Going where? Llewelyn Moss: There's something I forgot to do, but I'll be back. Carla Jean Moss: And what are yo...
Queen: Now, a formula to transform my beauty into ugliness. Change my queenly raiment to a peddler's cloak. Mummy dust, to make me old. To shroud my clothes, the black of night. To age my voice, an old hag's cackle. To whiten my hair, a scream of fri...
[fantasizing about how he'll get liquor] Seth: You dropped your purse, ma'am. Would you like me to help you with your groceries? Old Lady: Well that would be lovely young man. Would you like me to buy you alcohol? Seth: That would be lovely! [at the ...
Woody: You wait. Andy's gonna tuck us in the attic. It'll be safe and warm... Buzz Lightyear: And we'll all be together. Woody: Exactly! There's games up there and books and... Buzz Lightyear: The race car track! Woody: The race car track. Thank you!...
Billy Clanton: [as Doc Holliday is drunkenly playing a somber piece on the saloon piano, Clanton speaks, just as drunkenly] Is that "Old Dog Trey? Sounds like "Old Dog Trey." Doc Holliday: Pardon? Billy Clanton: Stephen Foster. "Oh, Susannah", "Campt...
Charlie Kaufman: We open on Charlie Kaufman. Fat, old, bald, repulsive, sitting in a Hollywood restaurant, across from Valerie Thomas, a lovely, statuesque film executive. Kaufman, trying to get a writing assignment, wanting to impress her, sweats pr...
Mortimer Brewster: I saw a play last week, it had a character in it, reminded me of Jonathon. Abby Brewster: Oh, really? Mortimer Brewster: Yeah, a honey of a lunatic. One of those whodunits called "Murder Will Out". Abby Brewster: Oh, dear! Mortimer...
Jonathan Brewster: Teddy, I think it's time for you to go to bed. Teddy Brewster: I beg your pardon. Who are you? Jonathan Brewster: I'm Woodrow Wilson. Go to bed! Teddy Brewster: No, you're not Wilson, but you're face is familiar. Let me see. You're...
Mortimer Brewster: But there's a body in the window seat! Aunt Abby: Yes, dear, we know. Mortimer Brewster: You know? Martha Brewster: Of course! Aunt Abby: Yes, but it has nothing to do with Teddy. Now, Mortimer, you just forget about it. Forget you...
The German experience brings us face to face with the major problem of the revolution in Western Europe. In these countries, the old bourgeois mode of production and the centuries-old civilisation which has developed with it have completely impressed...
None are so old as those who have outlived enthusiasm.
To my mind the old masters are not art; their value is in their scarcity.
I have programmed myself to be at least 105 years old.
Fake is as old as the Eden tree.
