Sergeant Mac Eliot: Goddamn! Shew. Buddy buddy-buddy-buddy-buddy. I've seen some bad-ass bush before, man, but nothin' like this. Blain: I hear ya. This shit's somethin'. Makes Cambodia look like Kansas. Sergeant Mac Eliot: Hey, que pasa, amigo? Litt...
[frame freezes as Remy bursts through a window carrying a book over his head] Remy: [voiceover] This is me. I think it's apparent that I need to rethink my life a little bit. What's my problem? First of all, I'm a rat. Which means, life is hard. Seco...
Karl: [Eating potted meat] I reckon it tastes alright. Frank: You really think it's got peckers in there? Karl: You know better than that. You ought not say that word. Frank: It smells funny. Karl: Yeah, it's pretty loud. Looky there. I believe you r...
Corrupt Cop: [finds a baggie in Winthorpe's coat at his arrest] One cellophane bag... Louis Winthorpe III: Now that's not mine! I've never seen that before in my life! Corrupt Cop: [takes some PCP out of the baggie and tastes it] That's PCP! Phencycl...
Meryl: [holding up a jar of cocoa, slipping into advertising mode] Why don't you let me fix you some of this Mococoa drink? All natural cocoa beans from the upper slopes of Mount Nicaragua. No artificial sweeteners. Truman: [looking around] What the ...
Paul Biegler: Mr. Paquette, what would you call a man with an insatiable penchant for women? Alphonse Paquette: A what? Paul Biegler: A penchant... a desire... taste... passion? Alphonse Paquette: Well, uh, ladies' man, I guess. Or maybe just a damn ...
Batman: Taste of your own medicine, doctor? [gasses Crane with fear toxin] Batman: What was your plan? Crane! Who are you working for? Dr. Jonathan Crane: [terrified] ... Ra's. Ra's Al Ghul! Batman: Ra's Al Ghul is dead. Who are you working for? Cran...
Let Sporus tremble — "What? that thing of silk, Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk? Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel? Who breaks a Butterfly upon a Wheel?" Yet let me flap this Bug with gilded wings, This painted Child of Dirt that st...
A kiss-goodnight Can last for hours Moaning into your mouth Licking the sweetness Of my lips Biting softly Holding on To the taste of yours Never wanting To let go Asking you To kiss me forever Asking the goodnight-kiss To become A kiss-good-morning ...
Once we got to eating, the idea of happiness returned to me. Not the feeling, the idea. Would a regular girl be happy simply eating a hot meal with a great deal of chew to it? Maybe happiness is a simple thing. Maybe it's as simple as the salty taste...
Because, my dear Eric, I have tasted the secret knowledge. I know how much to say and when to pull back. I know what to see and not see. And now that I have become whole again, I can never go back. All these things he has given me. Better than my sup...
but in the city in which I love you, no one comes, no one meets me in the brick clefts; in the wedged dark, no finger touches me secretly, no mouth tastes my flawless salt, no one wakens the honey in the cells, finds the humming in the ribs, the rich...
Amongst democratic nations men easily attain a certain equality of conditions: they can never attain the equality they desire. It perpetually retires from before them, yet without hiding itself from their sight, and in retiring draws them on. At ever...
Mama Lo can get a bit nasty whenever I play with the cubs. She thinks I'm going to eat one, but they're not to my taste. Too hairy. Now if she'd let me skin one, I might be interested." (Simi) He laughed in spite of himself. "Are you joking about tha...
Coffee and humanity both sprang from the same area in eastern Africa. What if some of those early ape-men nibbled on the bright red berries? What if the resulting mental stimulation opened them up to a new way of looking at old problems, much as it d...
I have often plotted my great escape to the beach. To live seaside and to be able to stare possibility and tranquility in the face every day ... I wanted it bad enough to taste. All the while forgetting, I can lap underneath an open sky at any moment...
O smile, going where? O upturned look: new, warm, receding surge of the heart--; alas, we are that surge. Does then the cosmic space we dissolve in taste of us? Do the angels reclaim only what is theirs, their own outstreamed existence, or sometimes,...
It was not till I experimented with seeds plucked straight from a growing plant that I had my first success...the first thrill of creation...the first taste of blood. This, surely, must be akin to the pride of paternity...indeed, many soured bachelor...
I had hundreds of books under my skin already. Not selected reading, all of it. Some of it could be called trashy. I had been through Nick Carter, Horatio Alger, Bertha M. Clay and the whole slew of dime novelists in addition to some really construct...
If you were to stare at this box of matches, you could extract entire worlds out of it. If you search for tastes in a book, you will certainly find them because it was said: seek and ye shall find. But a critic should not rifle, search. Let him sit b...
Clay sat up, swinging a leg over Jeff's body to straddle him. He grabbed both wrists and pinned them by Jeff's head, bending closer until they shared a breath between parted lips. "There's something about you, Jeff. Always something." "I'm just an or...
