Once I thought it delightful and astonishing to find a present so big that it only went halfway into the stocking. Now I am delighted and astonished every morning to find a present so big that it takes two stockings to hold it, and then leaves a grea...
Nicholas: And you really believe that just because you publish children's books, people are going to care about my reputation? You can have pictures of me wearing nipple rings, butt-fucking Captain Kangaroo. The only thing they care about is the stoc...
Eddie: They're armed. Soap: What was that? Armed? What do you mean armed? Armed with what? Eddie: Err, bad breath, colorful language, feather duster... what do you think they're gonna be armed with? Guns, you tit!
"Hatchet" Harry: You must be Eddie, J.D.'s son. Eddie: Yeah. You must be Harry. Sorry, didn't know your father. "Hatchet" Harry: Never mind son, you just might meet him if you carry on like that.
John: Jesus, Plank, couldn't you have got smokeless cartridges? I can't see a bloody thi - Ah! Shit! I've been shot! Dog: I don't fucking believe this! Can everyone stop gettin' shot?
[Discussing their careers as marijuana growers] J: I've a strong suspicion we should have been rocket scientists, or Nobel Peace Prize winners or something. Charles: Peace Prize? Ooh. Be lucky to find your penis for a piss, the amount you keep smokin...
JD: So, you in the clear? More importantly, am I? Eddie: It appears so. JD: Appears? You'd have to do better than fucking appears, my friend. Eddie: Well everybody's dead, Dad. I think that's about as clear as it can get.
John W. Snow was paid more than $50 million in salary, bonus and stock in his nearly 12 years as chairman of the CSX Corporation, the railroad company. During that period, the company's profits fell, and its stock rose a bit more than half as much as...
I come from a tough stock.
Schools were started to train human talents... The Guild... emphasizes almost pure mathematics. Bene Gesserit performs... politics. The original Bene Gesserit school was directed by those who saw the need of a thread of continuity in human affairs. T...
The U.S. stock market was now a class system, rooted in speed, of haves and have-nots. The haves paid for nanoseconds; the have-nots had no idea that nanoseconds had value. The haves enjoyed a perfect view of the market; the have-nots never saw the m...
Big Chris: I've got some bad news for you, John. John: What the fuck? [Chris closes tanning parlor on John] Big Chris: Mind your language in front of the boy! John: Jesus Christ! [Chris does it again] Big Chris: That includes blasphemy as well!
John: So they had the cash. Paul: And the puff. Dog: Cheeky bastards. Count it. John: Shit, Dog. There's a lot. Don't you wanna do it next door? Dog: We're not going next door until we flay them dead men walking.
Christmas is a stocking stuffed with sugary goodness.
Entrepreneurship is when an individual retrieves a red hot idea from the creativity furnace without the constraint of the heat of lean resources, and with each persistent blow of the innovation hammer shapes the still malleable idea against the anvil...
So much for Objective Journalism. Don't bother to look for it here--not under any byline of mine; or anyone else I can think of. With the possible exception of things like box scores, race results, and stock market tabulations, there is no such thing...
The office is painted with green and red stripes. It’s not painted that way so my mom can experience Christmas 364 more days a year. It represents the stock market, with green symbolizing greed, and red representing fear. Buy when the masses are fe...
Who can know anybody?' said the bookshop owner. 'Every person is like thousands of books. New, reprinting, in stock, out of stock, fiction, non-fiction, poetry, rubbish. The lot. Different every day. One's lucky to be able to put his hand on the one ...
It be urged that the wild and uncultivated tree, hitherto yielding sour and bitter fruit only, can never be made to yield better; yet we know that the grafting art implants a new tree on the savage stock, producing what is most estimable in kind and ...
Soap: What do they say about assumption being the brother of all fuck-ups? Tom: It's the mother of all fuck-ups, stupid! Soap: Brother, mother, any other sucker. It don't make any difference. They're still fucking guns and they still fire fucking bul...
Eddie: Twenty grand, open. "Hatchet" Harry: Thirty thousand. Back to you, already-Eddie. Eddie: Fifty grand. "Hatchet" Harry: Eighty grand. Eddie: One hundred grand. Player: Whoa, whoa, whoa, look fellas, I know... "Hatchet" Harry: I know you're not ...
