Kill him anyway!
He died in a bizarre gardening accident…
Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.
Cause the truth is, honey, there’s no sense living your life without this. To make the journey and not fall deeply in love, well, you haven’t lived a life at all. But you have to try, cause if you haven’t tried, you haven’t lived.
We have traveled over 8000 kilometers, boys… but the fact is that the greatest danger is still ahead.
Are you crazy? The fall will probably kill you.
Why do you walk on the wire? Why do you tempt fate? Why do you risk death. But, I don’t think of it this way.
I charge a lot for anything black. Grapes, olives, blackcurrants. People like to remind themselves of death; eating black food is like consuming death, like saying, “Death, I’m eating you!” Black truffles are the most expensive. And caviar. Death and birth. The end and the beginning. Don’t you think it’s appropriate that the most expensive items are black?
I like to think about what was going on the year the grapes were growing; how the sun was shining, if it rained.
“I know I can do it,” Todd Downey said, helping himself to another ear of corn from the steaming bowl. “I’m sure that in time, every bit of her will be gone and her death will be a mystery… even to me.”
What’d you think, I’d be the dead one? I’m the fucking narrator, guys! Keep up!
The Dude abides. I don’t know about you but I take comfort in that. It’s good knowin’ he’s out there. The Dude. Takin’ 'er easy for all us sinners.
“Man alive! Where did a DUDE learn to shoot like that?”
“I told you. I’m a gunsmith. How would I know if I fixed a gun right if I couldn’t shoot?”
“Who are you and how did you get in here?”
“I’m a locksmith. And, I’m a locksmith.”
“How the hell did YOU get in here?!”
“Through the mail slot. I thought it would be best if I waited inside, seeing as how I’m wanted for murder!”
“I didn’t kill my wife!”
“I don’t care!”
I am a prosecutor. I have spent my life in the assignment of blame.
J’accuse!
Where do I begin, my lords and ladies? I am a vile man, I confess it. My crimes and sins are beyond counting. I have lied and cheated, gambled and whored. I’m not particularly good at violence, but I’m good at convincing others to do violence for me. You want specifics, I suppose. When I was seven, I saw a servant girl bathing in the river. I stole her robe and she was forced to return to the castle naked and in tears. I close my eyes, but I can still see her tits bouncing. When I was ten, I stuffed my uncle’s boots with goat shit. When confronted with my crime, I blamed a squire. Poor boy was flogged, and I escaped justice. When I was twelve, I milked my eel into a pot of turtle stew. I flogged the one-eyed snake, I skinned my sausage. I made the bald man cry into the turtle stew, which I do believe my sister ate. At least I hope she did.
And I thought, if I survive all of this, I’d go to that house, apologize to the mother there, and accept whatever punishment she chose for me.