Thursday, July 19, 2012
Yippie yi oh, Yippie yi yay.
— Johnny Cash, “Ghost Riders In The Sky”
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
It’s good when you go through a lot of napkins.
— Phi Van Phan
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
I never knowed it before.
— Linda, Days of Heaven
Monday, July 16, 2012
And then I pull off my mask, and I’m a lizard person too.
— Brian Williams, "¡Que Sorpresa!,“ 30 Rock
Sunday, July 15, 2012
— Robert Muldoon, Jurassic Park
Saturday, July 14, 2012
If you’re not turning you’re not breathing.
Friday, July 13, 2012
At the moment I’m alive.
— Arthur Hockstader, The Best Man
Thursday, July 12, 2012
I find myself, walkin’ the streets.
— Girl Talk, “Like This”
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
I’m recording my story for the scientists in the future.
— Hushpuppy, Beasts of the Southern Wild
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Then it occurred to him that reality seldom coincides with the way we envision it beforehand; he inferred, with perverse logic, that to foresee any particular detail is in fact to prevent its happening.
— Jorge Luis Borges, “The Secret Miracle”
Monday, July 9, 2012
I paid closer attention to details.
— Paul Auster, Auggie Wren’s Christmas Story
Sunday, July 8, 2012
To say good-bye is to deny separation.
— Jorge Luis Borges, “Delia Elena San Marco"
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Wow, that’s a good moth.
— David Snydacker
Friday, July 6, 2012
I don’t like to explain myself.
— Daniel Plainview, There Will Be Blood
Thursday, July 5, 2012
So ends the story of Kohlhaas.
— Heinrich von Kleist, Michael Kohlhaas
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
If you don’t know, I can not explain it to you.
— Helen Ramírez, High Noon
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
We’re born alone and we die alone, that’s it. Who wants another scotch?
— Michael Longstreet, Carnage
Monday, July 2, 2012
I found myself enormously moved, and I was struck by the sense that I was recovering, under a different guise, something that had once been my own.
— Jorge Luis Borges, “Story of the Warrior and the Captive Maiden”
Sunday, July 1, 2012
If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.
— Fabian, Twelfth Night
Saturday, June 30, 2012
It seemed to be so fragile.
— Ian Fleming, The Spy Who Loved Me