Queeg:
Now there's no need for that I know exactly what hell tell you. Lies! He was no different than any officer in the wardroom -- they were all disloyal, I tried to run the ship properly by the book but they fought me at every turn. If the crew wanted to walk around with their shirttails hanging out that's all right let them take the tow line. Defective equipment no more no less, but they encouraged the crew to go around scoffing at me and spreading wild rumors about steaming and circles. And then old yellow stain. I was to blame for Lt. Merrick's incompetence and poor seamanship. Lt. Merrick was the perfect officer but not Captain Queeg.
Ah, but the strawberries! That's where I had them. They laughed at me and made jokes, but I proved beyond the shadow of a doubt, and with geometric logic, that a duplicate key to the wardroom icebox did exist! And I'd have produced that key if they hadn't pulled Caine out of action! I-I-I know now they were only trying to protect some fellow officer and!......(realizes he has been ranting, babbling)
Naturally, I can only cover these things from memory if I've left anything out, why, just ask me specific questions and I'll be glad to answer them...one-by-one...
Originally posted by NyxieBig *hug*
Queeg:
Now there's no need for that I know exactly what hell tell you. Lies! He was no different than any officer in the wardroom -- they were all disloyal, I tried to run the ship properly by the book but they fought me at every turn. If the crew wanted to walk around with their shirttails hanging out that's all right let them take the tow line. Defecti ...[text shortened]... ything out, why, just ask me specific questions and I'll be glad to answer them...one-by-one...
Thanks for that.
🙂
Galadriel: (speaking partly in Elvish)
I amar prestar aen. The world is changed. Han matho ne nen. I feel it in the water. Han mathon ned cae. I feel it in the earth. A han noston ned gwilith. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it.
It began with the forging of the Great Rings. Three were given to the Elves, immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings. Seven to the Dwarf-Lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And nine, nine rings were gifted to the race of Men, who above all else desire power. For within these rings was bound the strength and the will to govern each race. But they were all of them deceived, for another ring was made. Deep in the land of Mordor, in the Fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged a master ring, and into this ring he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life. One ring to rule them all.
One by one, the free lands of Middle-Earth fell to the power of the Ring, but there were some who resisted. A last alliance of men and elves marched against the armies of Mordor, and on the very slopes of Mount Doom, they fought for the freedom of Middle-Earth. Victory was near, but the power of the ring could not be undone.
It was in this moment, when all hope had faded, that Isildur, son of the king, took up his father's sword.
Sauron, enemy of the free peoples of Middle-Earth, was defeated. The Ring passed to Isildur, who had this one chance to destroy evil forever, but the hearts of men are easily corrupted. And the ring of power has a will of its own. It betrayed Isildur, to his death.
And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend. Legend became myth. And for two and a half thousand years, the ring passed out of all knowledge. Until, when chance came, it ensnared another bearer.
It came to the creature Gollum, who took it deep into the tunnels of the Misty Mountains. And there it consumed him. The ring gave to Gollum unnatural long life. For five hundred years it poisoned his mind, and in the gloom of Gollum's cave, it waited. Darkness crept back into the forests of the world. Rumor grew of a shadow in the East, whispers of a nameless fear, and the Ring of Power perceived its time had come. It abandoned Gollum, but then something happened that the Ring did not intend. It was picked up by the most unlikely creature imaginable: a hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire.
For the time will soon come when hobbits will shape the fortunes of all.
The Night of the Hunter 1955
Robert Mitcham:
Ah, little lad, you're staring at my fingers. Would you like me to tell you the little story of right-hand/left-hand? The story of good and evil? H-A-T-E! It was with this left hand that old brother Cain struck the blow that laid his brother low. L-O-V-E! You see these fingers, dear hearts? These fingers has veins that run straight to the soul of man. The right hand, friends, the hand of love. Now watch, and I'll show you the story of life. Those fingers, dear hearts, is always a-warring and a-tugging, one agin t'other. Now watch 'em! Old brother left hand, left hand he's a fighting, and it looks like love's a goner. But wait a minute! Hot dog, love's a winning! Yessirree! It's love that's won, and old left hand hate is down for the count!
Six Degrees of Separation
Paul: The aura about this book of Salinger's which perhaps should be read by everyone but young men is this. It mirrors like afun house mirror and amplifies lie a distorted speaker one of the great tragedies our time, the death of the imagination, because what else is paralysis? The imagination has been so debassed that imagination, being imaginative rather than being the lynch pin of our existence now stands for a synonym for something outside ourselves. Like science fiction or some new use for tangerine slices on raw pork chops. What an imaginative summer recipe. And Star Wars, so imaginative. And Star Trek, so Imaginative. And Lord of the Rings, all those dwarves, so imaginative. The imagination has move out of the realm of being our link, I mean our most personal link with our inner lives. The world outside that world, this world we share. What is schitzophrenia but a horrifying state where what's in here doesn't match up with what's out there. Why has immagination become a synonym for style? I believe the immagination is the passport that we create to help take us into the real world. I believe the immagination is meerly another phrase for what is most uniquely us. Jung says, "The greatest sin is to be unconcious." Holden says, "What scares me most is the other guys face. It wouldn't be so bad if you both could be blindfolded." Most of the time the faces that we face are not the other guys but our own faces. And it is the worst kind of yellowness to be so scared of yourself that you would put blinfolds on rather than deal with yourself. To face ourselves, that's the hard thing. The immagination, that's God's gift. To make the act of self examination, bearable.
Originally posted by ExyI WAS GUNNA DO THAT ONE! 😠Freakin' wonderful movie that is. The foster mother at the end has quickly become one of my favorite movie characters ever.
[b]The Night of the Hunter 1955
Robert Mitcham:
Ah, little lad, you're staring at my fingers. Would you like me to tell you the little story of right-hand/left-hand? The story of good and evil? H-A-T-E! It was with this left hand that old brother Cain struck the blow that laid his brother low. L-O-V-E! You see these fingers, dear hearts? These fingers ...[text shortened]... e's a winning! Yessirree! It's love that's won, and old left hand hate is down for the count![/b]
From the movie "Wall Street":
Gordon Gekko: The point is ladies and gentlemen that greed, for lack of a better word, is good. Greed is right. Greed works. Greed clarifies, cuts through and captures the essence of the evolutionary spirit. Greed, in all of it's forms - greed for life, for money, knowledge - has marked the upward surge of mankind and greed - you mark my words - will not only save Teldar Paper but that other malfunctioning corporation called the USA. Thank you.
Great movie, great performances. yummy
TheSkipper