The hardest part about writing fiction is finding long stretches of time to do it: for me, this means writing mostly on Saturdays and Sundays. But I am always thinking about my characters, jotting down ideas in stolen moments and hoping I'll be able ...
If you try to multitask in the classic sense of doing two things at once, what you end up doing is quasi-tasking. It's like being with children. You have to give it your full attention for however much time you have, and then you have to give somethi...
Vasilli: In the forest, the wolf lives for three years and the donkey for nine. Tania: That must be a proverb from the Urals, it makes no sense to me. Vasilli: The donkey lives longer because he's more useful. Tania: There aren't any donkeys in the f...
Clarissa Vaughn: I remember one morning getting up at dawn, there was such a sense of possibility. You know, that feeling? And I remember thinking to myself: So, this is the beginning of happiness. This is where it starts. And of course there will al...
General Custer: You came up here to kill me, didn't you? And you lost your nerve. Well, I was correct. In a sense, you are a renegade, but you are no Cheyenne Brave. Do I hang you? I think not. Get out of here.
George Banks: [Going to see the bank] Remember that the bank is a quiet and decorous place, and we must be on our best behavior. Michael: But I thought it was your bank. George Banks: Yes, well, I'm one of the junior officers, so in a sense it is. So...
Johnny: Hey, come on, Barb. Church was this morning. [pause as lightning is seen] Johnny: I mean, prayin's for church. Barbara: I haven't seen you in church lately. Johnny: Well, there's not much sense in my going to church.
Raleigh: [Into tape recorder, softly] Dudley suffers from a rare disorder combining symptoms of amnesia, dyslexia, and color-blindness, with a highly acute sense of hearing. Dudley Heinsbergen: [from adjoining room] I'm not color blind, am I? Raleigh...
Dr. John Watson: No, not you, Mary and I. You are not... Sherlock Holmes: What? Invited? Why would I be not invited to my own brother's country home, Watson? Now you are not making any sense! Dr. John Watson: You are not human!
Ichabod Crane: The millennium is almost upon us. In a few months, we will be living in the nineteenth century. But our courts continue to rely on medieval devices of torture. High Constable: Stand down. Ichabod Crane: I stand up for sense and justice...
Corporal Upham: "War educates the senses, calls into action the will, perfects the physical constitution, brings men into such swift and close collision in critical moments that man measures man." Captain Miller: I guess that's Emerson's way of findi...
Cole Sear: Are you a good doctor? Malcolm Crowe: Well... I used to be. I won an award once. From the Mayor. It had an expensive frame. Cole Sear: I'm gonna see you again, right? Malcolm Crowe: If that's okay with you.
Cole Sear: You ever feel the prickly things on the back of your neck? Malcolm Crowe: Yes. Cole Sear: And the tiny hairs on your arm, you know when they stand up? That's them. When they get mad... it gets cold.
Elinor Dashwood: I do not attempt to deny that I think very highly of him, that I... greatly esteem him... I like him. Marianne: "Esteem him?" "Like him?" Use those insipid words again and I shall leave the room this instant.
Elinor Dashwood: Marianne, please try... I... I cannot... I cannot do without you. Oh, please, I... I-I have tried to bear everything else... I will try... Please, dearest, beloved Marianne, do not leave me alone.
Fanny: Mrs. Dashwood, Miss Dashwood, Miss Marianne - my brother, Edward Ferrars. [Everyone bows or curtsies] Fanny, Mrs. Dashwood: [together] Do sit down. [There's an embarrassed pause as Mrs. Dashwood realises she is no longer the mistress of the h...
Sir John Middleton: Now, Miss Dashwood, it's your turn to entertain us. Elinor Dashwood: Oh no, Sir John, I don't... Sir John Middleton: And I believe I know what key you will sing in. "F" major.
Marianne: Colonel Brandon. [Though trying to slip out, he eases slowly back into the room, almost afraid to speak] Marianne: Thank you. [a fleeting look of mild gratitude crosses his face from these first sincerely kind words she's ever spoken to him...
Mrs. Dashwood: Surely you're not going to deny us beef as well as sugar. Elinor Dashwood: There is nothing under 10 pence a pound, Mamma. We must economise. Mrs. Dashwood: Do you want us to starve? Elinor Dashwood: No. Just not to eat beef.
[as Mrs. Dashwood sees off Marianne's dashing rescuer] Marianne: [whispering] His name! His name! Mrs. Dashwood: Oh, his name! [runs back] Mrs. Dashwood: Please, could you tell us to whom we are so much obliged?
I wish I'd been better able to resist the sense of obligation to write some of the poems I did. It's in the nature of commissioned work to be written too much from the side of your mind that knows what it's doing, which dries up the poetry.
