Get out of my chair!
Why are you smiling like that?
Why…so…serious?
Hey, Mom. Why so tense?
Does anyone else hear this thread title sung to the tune of Drink to Me Only With Thine Eyes" every time they see it onscreen?
[No. But I will now.]
Ooooohhhh the anger sharks are swimming in my head!
Anti-shark cage. You go inside the cage? Cage goes in the water, you go in the water. Shark’s in the water. Our shark. Farewell and adieu to you, fair Spanish ladies. Farewell and adieu, you ladies of Spain. For we’ve received orders for to sail back to Boston. And so nevermore shall we see you again.
I could give you my word as a Spaniard.
Tell me about Spain. It must be heavenly at Court.
My dear, it’s the one bearable place on Earth.
I shall impersonate a man. His name is Alonso Quijana, a country squire no longer young. Being retired, he has much time for books. He studies them from morn till night and often through the night and morn again, and all he reads oppresses him; fills him with indignation at man’s murderous ways toward man. He ponders the problem of how to make better a world where evil brings profit and virtue none at all; where fraud and deceit are mingled with truth and sincerity. He broods and broods and broods and broods and finally his brains dry up. He lays down the melancholy burden of sanity and conceives the strangest project ever imagined - -to become a knight-errant, and sally forth into the world in search of adventures; to mount a crusade; to raise up the weak and those in need. No longer will he be plain Alonso Quijana, but a dauntless knight known as Don Quixote de La Mancha.
When I was your age, television was called books.
Well, it’s a job just like any other. Good work with lots of variety. Monday, we burn Miller; Tuesday, Tolstoy; Wednesday, Walt Whitman; Friday, Faulkner; and Saturday and Sunday, Schopenhauer and Sartre. We burn them to ashes and then burn the ashes. That’s our official motto.
Write. In my religion we’re taught that every living thing, every leaf, every bird, is only alive because it contains the secret word for life. That’s the only difference between us and a lump of clay. A word. Words are life, Liesel.
I can’t read it.
He’s blind. That’s all. That doesn’t make him good or bad! That just makes him blind. And now, he’s blind with a purpose.
It’s less trouble to feel sorry for her than it is to teach her anything better.
I taught some of the stupidest children God ever put on the face of this earth, and all of them could read well enough to find a name on a tombstone.
This could very well be the stupidest person on the face of the earth. Perhaps we should shoot him.
When he takes aim, it’s anybody’s guess:
He’s the shakiest gun in the West.