Matt Buckner: You look nervous. Pete Dunham: Nervous? Fuck off... Matt Buckner: Well what's on your mind then? Pete Dunham: Only two little words keep every Hammer in England up all night... "United away".
1900: Christ, did you... did you see the streets, just the streets? There were thousands of them! Then how you do it down there, how do you choose just one... one woman, one house, one landscape to look at, one way to die...?
Max: You'll be carrying the stink of the streets with you for the rest of your life! Noodles: I like the stink of the streets. It makes me feel good. And I like the smell of it, it opens up my lungs. And it gives me a hard-on.
Jake Hoyt: That's street justice. Alonzo Harris: What's wrong with street justice? Jake Hoyt: Oh, what, so just let the animals wipe themselves out, right? Alonzo Harris: God willing. Fuck 'em, and everybody that looks like 'em.
I go out every day. When I get depressed at the office, I go out, and as soon as I'm on the street and see people, I feel better. But I never go out with a preconceived idea. I let the street speak to me.
Inspiration comes from everywhere: books, art, people on the street. It is an interior process for me.
I was a street dancer.
There is always the risk: something is good and good and good, and then all at once it gets awkward. All at once, she sees you looking at her, and then she doesn't want to seem flirty, because she doesn't want you to think she likes you. It's such a ...
Sheriff Leigh Brackett: I have a feeling that you're way off on this. Dr. Sam Loomis: You have the wrong feeling. Sheriff Leigh Brackett: You're not doing very much to prove me wrong! Dr. Sam Loomis: What more do you need? Sheriff Leigh Brackett: Wel...
I don't have many walls that I put up.
In the end, it's a mental maturity to let your best come out.
It's difficult to be at events with a room full of women who weigh half as much as you do.
Prime Minister: Hello, does Natalie live here? Harris Street little girl: No, she doesn't. Prime Minister: Oh, dear. Okay. Harris Street little girl: Are you singing carols? Prime Minister: Uh, no. No I'm not. Her friend: Please, sir, please? Her fri...
They were playing old Bob Dylan, more than perfect for narrow Village streets close to Christmas and the snow whirling down in big feathery flakes, the kind of winter where you want to be walking down a city street with your arm around a girl like on...
Forget Batman: when I really thought about what I wanted to be when I grew up, I wanted to be my dad.
Art in relation to life is nothing more than a glove turned inside out. It seems to have the same shapes and contours, but it can never be used for the same purpose. Art teaches nothing about life, just as life teaches us nothing about art.
I am the One, and I see all. But the blind man in Apartment 1-A is blind in many ways, as are all human beings, even those with functioning eyes. They are blind to their folly, to their ignorance, to their history, to the future that they will make f...
I guess it can’t be too often that two people can laugh and make love, too, make love because they are laughing, laugh because they’re making love. The love and the laughter come from the same place: but not many people go there
And again, the dark street. The dark, dark street. The women out shopping for the evening meal of course, and baby carriage and the silver bicycle were already painted out by the darkness; most of the commuters too were already in place in their fili...
Animals! the object of insatiable interest, examples of the riddle of life, created, as it were, to reveal the human being to man himself, displaying his richness and complexity in a thousand kaleidoscopic possibilities, each of them brought to some ...
There is only one place to write and that is alone at a typewriter. The writer who has to go into the streets is a writer who does not know the streets. . . when you leave your typewriter you leave your machine gun and the rats come pouring through.
