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Pic of the Day: “Colonel Von Luger, it is the sworn duty of all officers to try to escape. If they cannot escape, then it is their sworn duty to cause the enemy to use an inordinate number of troops to guard them, and their sworn duty to harass the enemy to the best of their ability.”
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Pic of the Day: “You see, there are still faint glimmers of civilization left in this barbaric slaughterhouse that was once known as humanity. Indeed that’s what we provide in our own modest, humble, insignificant… oh, fuck it.”
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Pic of the Day: “Scottie, do you believe that someone out of the past – someone dead – can enter and take possession of a living being?”
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Pic of the Day: “Why do you look so sad?” “Because you speak to me in words and I look at you with feelings.”
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Pic of the Day: “Shall I drive?” “I can’t refuse a dark-eyed brunette.” “And blue-eyed blondes?” “In any case you’re my kind of woman.” “What if I were a midget with glasses?” “I wouldn’t let you drive… Preposterous.”
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Pic of the Day: “Good morning. In less than an hour, aircraft from here will join others from around the world, and you will be launching the largest aerial battle in the history of mankind. Mankind, that word should have new meaning for all of us today. We can’t be consumed by our petty differences any more. We will be united in our common interest. Perhaps it’s fate that today is the 4th of July, and you will once again be fighting for our freedom. Not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution, but from annihilation. We’re fighting for our right to live, to exist, and should we win the day, the 4th of July will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day when the world declared in one voice, ‘We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We’re going to live on, we’re going to survive.’ Today we celebrate our Independence Day!”
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Pic of the Day: “A second flood, a simple famine, plagues of locusts everywhere, or a cataclysmic earthquake, I’d accept with some despair. But no, You sent us Congress! Good God, Sir, was that fair?”
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Pic of the Day: “I guess this is just another lost cause, Mr. Paine. All you people don’t know about lost causes. Mr. Paine does. He said once they were the only causes worth fighting for. And he fought for them once, for the only reason any man ever fights for them. Because of just one plain simple rule: ‘Love thy neighbor.’ And you know that you fight for the lost causes harder than for any other. Yes, you even die for them.”
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Pic of the Day: “We play on a real diamond, Porter. You ain’t good enough to lick the dirt off our cleats.” “Watch it, jerk!” “Shut up, idiot!” “Moron!” “Scab eater!” “Butt sniffer!” “Pus licker!” “Fart smeller!” “You eat dog crap for breakfast, geek!” “You mix your Wheaties with your mama’s toe jam!” “You bob for apples in the toilet! And you like it!” “You play ball like a girl!”
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Pic of the Day: “Why, Mr. Anderson? Why do you do it? Why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you’re fighting for something? For more than your survival? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it freedom? Or truth? Perhaps peace? Yes? No? Could it be for love? Illusions, Mr. Anderson. Vagaries of perception. The temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose. And all of them as artificial as the Matrix itself, although only a human mind could invent something as insipid as love. You must be able to see it, Mr. Anderson. You must know it by now. You can’t win. It’s pointless to keep fighting. Why, Mr. Anderson? Why? Why do you persist?” “Because I choose to.”
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Pic of the Day: “And now, on with the opera. Let joy be unconfined. Let there be dancing in the streets, drinking in the saloons, and necking in the parlor.”
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Pic of the Day: “This is war, Peacock. Casualties are inevitable. You can not make an omelet without breaking eggs, every cook will tell you that.” “But look what happened to the cook!”
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Pic of the Day: “For millennia, I have dreamed of my return to that wretched planet where I, too, was once betrayed by the Primes I called my brothers. Only a Prime can defeat me… and now, only one remains.” “Optimus… he protects the boy.” “Then the boy will lead us too him, and revenge will be ours.”
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Pic of the Day: “I… I Need to know who he is. I… I need to stand there, I need to look him in the eye and I need to know that it’s him.”
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Pic of the Day: “Not this time, Gal. Not this time. Not this fucking time. No. No no no no no no no no no! No! No no no no no no no no no no no no no! No! Not this fucking time! No fucking way! No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way! You’ve made me look a right cunt!”
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Pic of the Day: “You have muddled everything from the start, taking that child with you from Marrakesh. Don’t you realize that Americans dislike having their children stolen?”
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Pic of the Day: “What do you think, Sergeant?” “I think you’ll do just fine, sir.” “Don’t give me that! I said what do you think?” “I think the first chance one of those lovers gets, he’s going to shoot the Major right in the head… sir.”
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Pic of the Day: “Tommy?” “Yeah?” “Why?” “Why what?” “Why am I here?” “Because it’s the prom.” “Why am I here with you?” “Because I asked you.” “Why’d you ask me?” “Because I wanted to.” “Why’d you want to?” “Because you liked my poem. Only I didn’t write it. Somebody else did.” “Oh.”
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Pic of the Day: “Don’t put metal in that science oven, Rosalyn. Don’t put metal in that science… He always treats me like a fucking child, I’ll do whatever I want… Oh!” “Another fire!” “No, Danny! Not that one! That one’s empty! We gotta use the big one!”
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Pic of the Day: “Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money – and a woman – and I didn’t get the money and I didn’t get the woman. Pretty, isn’t it?”
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Pic of the Day: “Son, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Who’s gonna do it? You? You, Lt. Weinburg? I have a greater responsibility than you could possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago, and you curse the Marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That Santiago’s death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don’t want the truth because deep down in places you don’t talk about at parties, you want me on that wall, you need me on that wall. We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that I provide, and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said thank you, and went on your way, Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a weapon, and stand a post. Either way, I don’t give a damn what you think you are entitled to.”
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Pic of the Day: ♫ “Winds in the east, mist coming in / Like somethin’ is brewin’ and ‘bout to begin. / Can’t put me finger on what lies in store / But I fear what’s to happen all happened before.” ♫
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