[laying on the ground with his throat slashed by Fred and the Mystery Man] Mr. Eddy: [gagging from his bloody throat] What do you guys want? [the Mystery Man pulls out a hand-held Watchman TV and gives it to Mr. Eddy who looks on it to see an interio...
Yes, I hate orthodox criticism. I don't mean great criticism, like that of Matthew Arnold and others, but the usual small niggling, fussy-mussy criticism, which thinks it can improve people by telling them where they are wrong, and results only in pu...
A man's life is his whole life, not the last glimmering snuff of the candle; and this, I say, is considerable, and not a little matter, whether we regard its pleasures or its pains. To draw a peevish conclusion to the contrary from our own superannua...
[first lines] Tony Stark: I feel like you're driving me to court martial. This is crazy. What did I do? I feel like you're gonna pull over and snuff me. What, you're not allowed to talk? Hey, Forrest! Jimmy: We can talk, sir. Tony Stark: Oh, I see. S...
To reach the farthest chamber of Lascaux, it's likely a man had to snuff out his light, lower himself down a shaft with a rope made of twisted fibers, and then rekindle his lamp in the dark so as to draw the woolly rhinoceros, the half horse, and the...
New eyes awaken. I send Love's name into the world with wings And songs grow up around me like a jungle. Choirs of all creatures sing the tunes Your Spirit played in Eden. Zebras and antelopes and birds of paradise Shine on the face of the abyss And ...
I think that a lot of the time, people are generous towards those whom they pity; but only find fault in those whom they see as better than themselves. There is a fake kind of goodness; and that is the goodness that is only good towards other people ...
Caden Cotard: I wanted to ask you, how old are kids when they start to write? Madeleine Gravis: Listen, there's an absolutely brilliant novel written by a four year old. Caden Cotard: Really? Madeleine Gravis: 'Little Winky" by Horace Azpiazu. Caden ...
I? I walk alone; The midnight street Spins itself from under my feet; My eyes shut These dreaming houses all snuff out; Through a whim of mine Over gables the moon's celestial onion Hangs high. I Make houses shrink And trees diminish By going far; my...
