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Pic of the Day: “We’ve been watching your writings, young man. You’re a troublemaker! These articles of yours, attacking our leading men of letters, the arts! Criticizing the civic authorities!” “Perhaps you know of something better for me to criticize?”
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Pic of the Day: “I’ve got to have more steps. I need more steps. I’ve got to get higher. Higher.”
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Pic of the Day: “When you’re back in England with the fleet again, you’ll hear the hue and cry against me. From now on they’ll spell mutiny with my name.”
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Pic of the Day: “Do you love my daughter?” “Any guy that’d fall in love with your daughter ought to have his head examined.” “Now that’s an evasion!” “She picked herself a perfect running mate – King Westley, the pill of the century! What she needs is a guy that’d take a sock at her once a day, whether it’s coming to her or not. If you had half the brains you’re supposed to have, you’d done it yourself, long ago.” “Do you love her?” “A normal human being couldn’t live under the same roof with her without going nutty! She’s my idea of nothing!” “I asked you a simple question! Do you love her?” “YES! But don’t hold that against me, I’m a little screwy myself!”
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Pic of the Day: “They will always talk about Yancy. He’s gonna be part of the history of the great Southwest. It’s men like him that build the world. The rest of them, like me… why, we just come along and live in it.”
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Pic of the Day: “We’ve no use talking like this. You won’t know what I mean. Only, it’s been a long while since we enlisted out of this classroom. So long, I thought maybe the whole world had learned by this time. Only now they’re sending babies, and they won’t last a week! I shouldn’t have come on leave. Up at the front you’re alive or you’re dead and that’s all. You can’t fool anybody about that very long. And up there we know we’re lost and done for whether we’re dead or alive. Three years we’ve had of it, four years! And every day a year, and every night a century! And our bodies are earth, and our thoughts are clay, and we sleep and eat with death! And we’re done for because you can’t live that way and keep anything inside you!”
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Pic of the Day: “Those men aren’t going to pay ten bucks to look at your face; this is Broadway!” “Yeah, ‘Broad’s way!’”
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Pic of the Day: “For wherever the sun rises and sets, in the city’s turmoil or under the open sky on the farm, life is much the same; sometimes bitter, sometimes sweet.”
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Pic of the Day: “When King Lear dies in Act V, do you know what Shakespeare has written? He’s written, ‘He dies.’ That’s all. Nothing more. No fanfare, no metaphor, no brilliant final words. The culmination of the most influential work of dramatic literature is ‘He dies.’ It takes Shakespeare, a genius, to come up with ‘He dies.’ And yet every time I read those two words, I find myself overwhelmed with dysphoria. And I know it’s only natural to be sad, but not because of the words ‘He dies,’ but because of the life we saw prior to the words. I’ve lived all five of my acts, Mahoney, and I am not asking you to be happy that I must go. I’m only asking that you turn the page, continue reading, and let the next story begin. And if anyone asks what became of me, you relate my life in all its wonder, and end it with a simple and modest ‘He died.’”
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Pic of the Day: “Just one more thing to say: my late husband was a great lover of poetry, and I suppose some of it sunk in, despite my best intentions. And here today, I remember this, I believe, from Tennyson: “We are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are. One equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will. To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”
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Pic of the Day: “Two years he walks the earth. No phone, no pool, no pets, no cigarettes. Ultimate freedom. An extremist. An aesthetic voyager whose home is the road. So now, after two rambling years comes the final and greatest adventure. The climactic battle to kill the false being within and victoriously conclude the spiritual revolution. No longer to be poisoned by civilization, he flees, and walks alone upon the land to become lost in the wild. Alexander Supertramp. May 1992.”
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Pic of the Day: ♫ “On my own / Pretending he’s beside me / All alone, I walk with him ’til morning / Without him, I feel his arms around me / And when I lose my way I close my eyes / And he has found me.” ♫
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Pic of the Day: “Whoa!” “What the fuck’s happening, man? Ah, shit man!” “Oh man, I shot Marvin in the face.”
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Pic of the Day: “Time travel has not yet been invented. But thirty years from now, it will have been. It will be instantly outlawed, used only in secret by only the largest criminal organizations. It’s nearly impossible to dispose of a body in the future… I’m told. Tagging techniques, whatnot. So when these criminal organizations in the future need someone gone, they use specialized assassins in our present called ‘Loopers.’ And so, my employers in the future nab the target, they zap them back to me – their Looper. He appears, hands tied and head sacked, and I do the necessaries. Collect my silver. So the target has vanished from the future, and I’ve just disposed of a body that technically does not exist. Clean.”
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Pic of the Day: “I feel I’m in a real family now. Not like yours, but similar to one.” “I always wished I was an orphan. Most of my favorite characters are. I think your lives are more special.” “I love you, but you don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I love you too.”
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