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Stickeen

Stickeen (1909) A story of a dog and of adventures in Alaska, by John Muir.

 * I like dogs, but this one seemed so small and worthless that I objected to his going, and asked the missionary why he was taking him. "Such a little helpless creature will only be in the way," I said; "you had better pass him up to the Indian boys on the wharf, to be taken home to play with the children. This trip is not likely to be good for toy-dogs. The poor silly thing will be in rain and snow for weeks or months, and will require care like a baby." But his master assured me that he would be no trouble at all; that he was a perfect wonder of a dog, could endure cold and hunger like a bear, swim like a seal, and was wondrous wise and cunning, etc., making out a list of virtues to show he might be the most interesting member of the party.

 * Nobody could hope to unravel the lines of his ancestry. In all the wonderfully mixed and varied dog-tribe I never saw any creature very much like him, though in some of his sly, soft, gliding motions and gestures he brought the fox to mind.

 * On our trip he soon proved himself a queer character— odd, concealed, independent, keeping invincibly quiet, and doing many little puzzling things that piqued my curiosity. As we sailed week after week through the long intricate channels and inlets among the innumerable islands and mountains of the coast, he spent most of the dull days in sluggish ease, motionless, and apparently as unobserving as if in deep sleep. But I discovered that somehow he always knew what was going on.

 * Though capable of great idleness, he never failed to be ready for all sorts of adventures and excursions. One pitch-dark rainy night we landed about ten o'clock at the mouth of a salmon stream when the water was phosphorescent. The salmon were running, and the myriad fins of the onrushing multitude were churning all the stream into a silvery glow, wonderfully beautiful and impressive in the ebon darkness. To get a good view of the show I set out with one of the Indians and sailed up through the midst of it to the foot of a rapid about half a mile from camp, where the swift current dashing over rocks made the luminous glow most glorious. Happening to look back down the stream, while the Indian was catching a few of the struggling fish, I saw a long spreading fan of light like the tail of a comet, which we thought must be made by some big strange animal that was pursuing us. On it came with its magnificent train, until we imagined we could see the monster's head and eyes; but it was only Stickeen, who, finding I had left the camp, came swimming after me to see what was up.

 * When we camped early, the best hunter of the crew usually went to the woods for a deer, and Stickeen was sure to be at his heels, provided I had not gone out. For, strange to say, though I never carried a gun, he always followed me, forsaking the hunter and even his master to share my wonderings. The days that were too stormy for sailing I spent in the woods, or on the adjacent mountains, wherever my studies called me; and Stickeen always insisted on going with me, however wild the weather

 * Once he followed me over a glacier the surface of which was so crusty and rough that it cut his feet until every step was marked with blood; but he trotted on with Indian fortitude until I noticed his red track, and, taking pity on him, made him a set of moccasins out of a handkerchief. However great his troubles he never asked help or made any complaint, as if, like a philosopher, he had learned that without hard work and suffering there could be no pleasure worth having.

 * Yet none of us was able to make out what Stickeen was really good for. He seemed to meet danger and hardships without anything like reason, insisted on having his own way, never obeyed an order, and the hunter could never set him on anything, or make him fetch the birds he shot. His equanimity was so steady it seemed due to want of feeling; ordinary storms were pleasures to him, and as for mere rain, he flourished in it like a vegetable. No matter what advances you might make, scarce a glance or a tail-wag would you get for your pains. But though he was apparently as cold as a glacier and about as impervious to fun, I tried hard to make his acquaintance, guessing there must be something worth while hidden beneath so much courage, endurance, and love of wild-weathery adventure. No superannuated mastiff or bulldog grown old in office surpassed this fluffy midget in stoic dignity.

 * There is no estimating the wit and wisdom concealed and latent in our lower fellow mortals until made manifest by profound experiences; for it is through suffering that dogs as well as saints are developed and made perfect.

 * Many of the trees were down and buried, or nearly so, others were leaning away from the ice-cliffs, ready to fall, and some stood erect, with the bottom of the ice plow still beneath their roots and its lofty crystal spires towering huge above their tops. The spectacle presented by these century-old trees standing close beside a spiry wall of ice, with their branches almost touching it, was most novel and striking.

 * I had intended making a cup of coffee and getting something like a breakfast before starting, but when I heard the storm and looked out I made haste to join it; for many of Nature's finest lessons are to be found in her storms, and if careful to keep in right relations with them, we may go safely abroad with them, rejoicing in the grandeur and beauty of their works and ways, and chanting with the old Norsemen, "The blast of the tempest aids our oars, the hurricane is our servant and drives us whither we wish to go." So, omitting breakfast, I put a piece of bread in my pocket and hurried away.

 * That a man should welcome storms for their exhilarating music and motion, and go forth to see God making landscapes, is reasonable enough; but what fascination could there be in such tremendous weather for a dog? Surely nothing akin to human enthusiasm for scenery or geology. Anyhow, on he came, breakfastless, through the choking blast.

 * Nature, it seems, was at the bottom of the affair, and she gains her ends with dogs as well as with men, making us do as she likes, shoving and pulling us along her ways, however rough, all but killing us at times in getting her lessons driven hard home. After I had stopped again and again, shouting good warning advice, I saw that he was not to be shaken off; as well might the earth try to shake off the moon.

 * The pitiful wanderer just stood there in the wind, drenched and blinking, saying doggedly, "Where thou goest I will go." So at last I told him to come on if he must, and gave him a piece of the bread I had in my pocket; then we struggled on together, and thus began the most memorable of all my wild days.

 * The rain continued, and grew colder, which I did not mind, but a dim snowy look in the drooping clouds made me hesitate about venturing far from land.

 * Snow-crystals, the flowers of the mountain clouds, are frail, beautiful things, but terrible when flying on storm-winds in darkening, benumbing swarms or when welded together into glaciers full of deadly crevasses. Watching the weather, I sauntered about on the crystal sea. For a mile or so out I found the ice remarkably safe.

 * Toward the west side we came to a closely crevassed section in which we had to make long, narrow tacks and doublings, tracing the edges of tremendous traverse and longitudinal crevasses, many of which were from twenty to thirty feet wide, and perhaps a thousand feet deep— beautiful and awful. In working a way through them I was severely cautious, but Stickeen came on as unhesitating as the flying clouds. The widest crevasse that I could jump he would leap without so much as halting to take a look at it.

 * The little adventurer was only about two years old, yet nothing seemed novel to him. Nothing daunted him. He showed neither caution nor curiosity, wonder nor fear, but bravely trotted on as if glaciers were playgrounds. His stout, muffled body seemed all one skipping muscle, and it was truly wonderful to see how swiftly and to all appearance heedlessly he flashed across nerve-trying chasms six or eight feet wide. His courage was so unwavering that it seemed to be due to dullness of perception, as if he were only blindly bold; and I kept warning him to be careful. For we had been close companions on so many wilderness trips that I had formed the habit of talking to him as if he were a boy and understood every word.

 * Stickeen seemed able for anything. Doubtless we could have weathered the storm for one night, dancing on a flat spot to keep from freezing, and I faced the threat without feeling anything like despair; but we were hungry and wet, and the wind from the mountains was still thick with snow and bitterly cold, so of course that night would have seemed a very long one. I could not see far enough through the blurring snow to judge in which general direction the least dangerous route lay, while the few dim, momentary glimpses I caught of mountains through rifts in the flying clouds were far from encouraging either as weather signs or as guides.

 * Again and again I was put to my mettle, but Stickeen followed easily, his nerve apparently growing more unflinching as the danger increased. So it always is with mountaineers when hard beset. Running hard and jumping, holding every minute of the remaining daylight, poor as it was, precious, we doggedly persevered and tried to hope that every difficult crevasse we overcame would prove to be the last of its kind. But on the contrary, as we advanced they became more deadly trying.

 * At length our way was barred by a very wide and straight crevasse, which I traced rapidly northward a mile or so without finding a crossing or hope of one; then down the glacier about as far, to where it united with another uncrossable crevasse. In all this distance of perhaps two miles there was only one place where I could possibly jump it, but the width of this jump was the utmost I dared attempt, while the danger of slipping on the farther side was so great that I was loath to try it. Furthermore, the side I was on was about a foot higher than the other, and even with this advantage the crevasse seemed dangerously wide. One is liable to underestimate the width of crevasses where the magnitudes in general are great. I therefore stared at this one mighty keenly, estimating its width and the shape of the edge on the farther side, until I thought that I could jump it if necessary, but that in case I should be compelled to jump back from the lower side I might fail. Now, a cautious mountaineer seldom takes a step on unknown ground which seems at all dangerous that he cannot retrace in case he should be stopped by unseen obstacles ahead. This is the rule of mountaineers who live long, and, though in haste, I compelled myself to sit down and calmly deliberate before I broke it.

 * At length, because of the dangers already behind me, I determined to venture against those that might he ahead, jumped and landed well, but with so little to spare that I more than ever dreaded being compelled to take that jump back from the lower side.

 * To my dismay I discovered that we were on a narrow island about two miles long, with two barely possible ways to escape: one back by the way we came, the other ahead by an almost inaccessible sliver-bridge that crossed the great crevasse from near the middle of it!

 * The sliver-bridges, level on top at first and perfectly safe, are at length melted to thin, vertical, knife-edged blades, the upper portion being most exposed to the weather; and since the exposure is greatest in the middle. they at length curve downward like the cables of suspension bridges. This one was evidently very old, for it had been weathered and wasted until it was the most dangerous and inaccessible that ever lay in my way. The width of the crevasse was here about fifty feet, and the sliver crossing diagonally was about seventy feet long; its thin knife-edge near the middle was depressed twenty-five or thirty feet below the level of the glacier, and the up-curving ends were attached to the sides eight or ten feet below the brink. Getting down the nearly vertical wall to the end of the sliver and up the other side were the main difficulties, and they seemed all but insurmountable. Of the many perils encountered in my years of wandering on mountains and glaciers none seemed so plain and stern and merciless as this. And it was presented when we were wet to the skin and hungry, the sky dark with quick driving snow, and the night near. But we were forced to face it. It was a tremendous necessity.

 * Crouching as low as possible, with my left side toward the wall, I steadied myself against the wind with my left hand in a slight notch, while with the right I cut other similar steps and notches in succession, guarding against losing balance by glinting of the axe, or by wind-gusts, for life and death were in every stroke and in the niceness of finish of every foothold.

 * The tremendous abyss on either hand I studiously ignored. To me the edge of that blue sliver was then all the world. But the most trying part of the adventure, after working my way across inch by inch and chipping another small platform, was to rise from the safe position astride and to cut a step-ladder in the nearly vertical face of the wall,— chipping, climbing, holding on with feet and fingers in mere notches. At such times one's whole body is eye. and common skill and fortitude are replaced by power beyond our call or knowledge . Never before had I been so long under deadly strain. How I got up that cliff I never could tell. The thing seemed to have been done by somebody else. I never have held death in contempt, though in the course of my explorations I have oftentimes felt that to meet one's fate on a noble mountain, or in the heart of a glacier, would be blessed as compared with death from disease, or from some shabby lowland accident. But the best death, quick and crystal-pure, set so glaringly open before us, is hard enough to face, even though we feel gratefully sure that we have already had happiness enough for a dozen lives.

 * But poor Stickeen, the wee, hairy, sleekit beastie, think of him! When I had decided to dare the bridge, and while I was on my knees chipping a hollow on the rounded brow above it, he came behind me, pushed his head past my shoulder, looked down and across, scanned the sliver and its approaches with his mysterious eyes, then looked me in the face with a startled air of surprise and concern, and began to mutter and whine; saying as plainly as if speaking with words, "Surely, you are not going into that awful place." This was the first time I had seen him gaze deliberately into a crevasse, or into my face with an eager, speaking, troubled look. That he should have recognized and appreciated the danger at the first glance showed wonderful sagacity. Never before had the daring midget seemed to know that ice was slippery or that there was any such thing as danger anywhere.

 * No right way is easy in this rough world. We must risk our lives to save them. At the worst we can only slip, and then how grand a grave we will have, and by and by our nice bones will do good in the terminal moraine.

 * My sermon was far from reassuring him: he began to cry, and after taking another piercing look at the tremendous gulf, ran away in desperate excitement, seeking some other crossing. By the time he got back, baffled of course, I had made a step or two. I dared not look back, but he made himself heard; and when he saw that I was certainly bent on crossing he cried aloud in despair. The danger was enough to haunt anybody, but it seems wonderful that he should have been able to weight and appreciate it so justly. No mountaineer could have seen it more quickly or judged it more wisely, discriminating between real and apparent peril.

 * When I gained the other side, he screamed louder than ever, and after running back and forth in vain search for a way of escape, he would return to the brink of the crevasse above the bridge, moaning and wailing as if in the bitterness of death. Could this be the silent, philosophic Stickeen? I shouted encouragement, telling him the bridge was not so bad as it looked, that I had left it flat and safe for his feet, and he could walk it easily. But he was afraid to try. Strange so small an animal should be capable of such big, wise fears. I called again and again in a reassuring tone to come on and fear nothing; that he could come if he would only try. He would hush for a moment, look down again at the bridge, and shout his unshakable conviction that he could never, never come that way; then lie back in despair, as if howling, "O-o-oh! what a place! No-o-o, I can never go-o-o down there!" His natural composure and courage had vanished utterly in a tumultuous storm of fear. Had the danger been less, his distress would have seemed ridiculous. But in this dismal, merciless abyss lay the shadow of death, and his heart-rending cries might well have called Heaven to his help. Perhaps they did. So hidden before, he was now transparent, and one could see the workings of his heart and mind like the movements of a clock out of its case. His voice and gestures, hopes and fears, were so perfectly human that none could mistake them; while he seemed to understand every word of mine. I was troubled at the thought of having to leave him out all night, and of the danger of not finding him in the morning. It seemed impossible to get him to venture. To compel him to try through fear of being abandoned, I started off as if leaving him to his fate, and disappeared back of a hummock; but this did no good; he only lay down and moaned ill utter hopeless misery. So, after hiding a few minutes, I went back to the brink of the crevasse and in a severe tone of voice shouted across to him that now I must certainly leave him, I could wait no longer, and that, if he would not come, all I could promise was that I would return to seek him next day. I warned him that if he went back to the woods the wolves would kill him, and finished by urging him once more by words and gestures to come on, come on.

 * Holding himself steady against the gusty wind, and giving separate attention to each little step, he gained the foot of the cliff, while I was on my knees leaning over to give him a lift should he succeed in getting within reach of my arm. Here he halted in dead silence, and it was here I feared he might fail, for dogs are poor climbers. I had no cord. If I had had one, I would have dropped a noose over his head and hauled him up. But while I was thinking whether an available cord might be made out of clothing, he was looking keenly into the series of notched steps and finger-holds I had made, as if counting them, and fixing the position of each one of them in his mind. Then suddenly up he came in a springy rush, hooking his paws into the steps and notches so quickly that I could not see how it was done, and whizzed past my head, safe at last!

 * And now came a scene! "Well done, well done, little boy! Brave boy!" I cried, trying to catch and caress him; but he would not be caught. Never before or since have I seen anything like so passionate a revulsion from the depths of despair to exultant, triumphant, uncontrollable joy. He flashed and darted hither and thither as if fairly demented, screaming and shouting, swirling round and round in giddy loops and circles like a leaf in a whirlwind, lying down, and rolling over and over, sidewise and heels over head, and pouring forth a tumultuous flood of hysterical cries and sobs and gasping mutterings. When I ran up to him to shake him, fearing he might die of joy, he flashed off two or three hundred yards, his feet in a mist of motion; then, turning suddenly, came back in a wild rush and launched himself at my face, almost knocking me down. all the while screeching and screaming and shouting as if saying, "Saved! saved! saved!" Then away again, dropping suddenly at times with his feet in the air, trembling and fairly sobbing. Such passionate emotion was enough to kill him. Moses' stately song of triumph after escaping the Egyptians and the Red Sea was nothing to it. Who could have guessed the capacity of the dull, enduring little fellow for all that most stirs this mortal frame? Nobody could have helped crying with him!

 * There is nothing like work for toning down excessive fear or joy. So I ran ahead, calling him in as gruff a voice as I could command to come on and stop his nonsense, for we had far to go and it would soon he dark. Neither of us feared another trial like this. Heaven would surely count one enough for a lifetime. The ice ahead was gashed by thousands of crevasses, but they were common ones. The joy of deliverance burned in us like fire, and we ran without fatigue, every muscle with immense rebound glorying in its strength. Stickeen flew across everything in his way, and not till dark did he settle into his normal fox-like trot. At last the cloudy mountains came in sight, and we soon felt the solid rock beneath our feet, and were safe. Then came weakness. Danger had vanished, and so had our strength.

 * The man who said, "The harder the toil, the sweeter the rest," never was profoundly tired. Stickeen kept springing up and muttering in his sleep, no doubt dreaming that he was still on the brink of the crevasse; and so did I, that night and many others long afterward, when I was over-tired.

 * Thereafter Stickeen was a changed dog. During the rest of the trip, instead of holding aloof, he always lay by my side, tried to keep me constantly in sight, and would hardly accept a morsel of food, however tempting, from any hand but mine. At night, when all was quiet about the camp-fire, he would come to me and rest his head on my knee with a look of devotion as if I were his god. And often as he caught my eye he seemed to be trying to say, "Wasn't that an awful time we had together on the glacier?"

 * Nothing in after years has dimmed that Alaska storm-day. As I write it all comes rushing and roaring to mind as if I were again in the heart of it. Again I see the gray flying clouds with their rain-floods and snow, the ice-cliffs towering above the shrinking forest, the majestic ice-cascade, the vast glacier outspread before its white mountain-fountains, and in the heart of it the tremendous crevasse,— emblem of the valley of the shadow of death,— low clouds trailing over it, the snow falling into it; and on its brink I see little Stickeen, and I hear his cries for help and his shouts of joy. I have known many dogs, and many a story I could tell of their wisdom and devotion; but to none do I owe so much as to Stickeen. At first the least promising and least known of my dog-friends, he suddenly became the best known of them all. Our storm-battle for life brought him to light, and through him as through a window I have ever since been looking with deeper sympathy into all my fellow mortals.

Stickeen (1915)
These are quotations from the beginning and the end of a much shorter account of the tale about Stickeen, published in Travels in Alaska (1915)

 * I set off early the morning of August 30 before any one else in camp had stirred, not waiting for breakfast, but only eating a piece of bread. I had intended getting a cup of coffee, but a wild storm was blowing and calling, and I could not wait. Running out against the rain-laden gale and turning to catch my breath, I saw that the minister's little dog had left his bed in the tent and was coming boring through the storm, evidently determined to follow me.

 * Stickeen and I were too tired to eat much, and, strange to say, too tired to sleep. Both of us springing up in the night again and again, fancied we were still on that dreadful ice bridge in the shadow of death. Nevertheless, we arose next morning in newness of life. Never before had rocks and ice and trees seemed so beautiful and wonderful, even the cold, biting rainstorm that was blowing seemed full of loving-kindness, wonderful compensation for all that we had endured, and we sailed down the bay through the gray, driving rain rejoicing.

title: Stickeen


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Category:Cartoon characters

This is a list of articles containing quotes from cartoon characters in both print and ci

license: Creative Commons - Attribution Share-Alike - https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

title: Category:Cartoon characters


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Peter F. Hamilton

Peter F. Hamilton (born 2 March 1960) is a British science fiction author.

The Reality Dysfunction (1996)

 * Joshua was the most dynamic lover she had ever known. Gentle and domineering; it was a lethal combination. If only he wasn't quite so ruthlessly mechanical about it. A little too much of his pleasure had come from seeing her lose all control. But then that was Joshua; unwilling to share… Joshua didn't trust people.
 * musings of Ione, Lord of Ruin and autocrat of Tranquility'' habitat

The Neutronium Alchemist (1997)

 * You cannot impose ideologies on people who do not embrace it wholeheartedly.
 * Endron, systems specialist of the Far Realm

 * The whole concept of salvation through belief offers strength to those who doubt themselves.
 * Athene, mother of Syrinx, resident of Eden habitat

The Naked God (1999)

 * Here there was only yourself; a soul buried alive. Nothing to comfort you but your own life. Screaming from the pain of the blows which battered him down might have stopped, but the internal scream of self-loathing could never cease.
 * as the ghost Dariat lies immobile in a wispy limbo

 * Like men in his position throughout history, Kingsley Pryor did nothing as events swept him to their conclusion; simply waiting and praying that a magical third option would spring from nowhere.

 * Faith, Quinn mused, was a strange power. They had committed their lives to the sect, never questioning its gospels. Yet in all of that time, they had the reassurance of routine… The bedrock of every religion, that your God is a promise, never to be encountered in this life, this universe.
 * Quin Dexter of the Lightbringer Sect on faith

Pandora's Star (2004)

 * I believe that intelligence and rationality will always be primary no matter what shape sentient creatures take. To not think that would be to doubt the value of life itself.
 * Tochee

Judas Unchained (2005)

 * But to have dreamed the dream is to have flown above the mountains so high in all but deed.
 * The Agent

 * Mockery; the righteousness of fools everywhere.
 * The Agent

title: Peter F. Hamilton


text: Category:Dramedies

title: Category:Dramedies


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Dead Like Me

Dead Like Me was an (2003–2004) American dramedy show.

Pilot (1.1)

 * [The camera closes in on cubicle land, where a teenage girl with a dull expression listens to her headset.]
 * George: [voiceover] That's me. I'd say I'm sorry to disappoint you… but I'm not. I excel at not giving a shit. Experience has taught me that interest begets expectation, and expectation begets disappointment, so the key to avoiding disappointment is to avoid interest. A equals B equals C equals A, or… whatever. I also don't have a lot of interest in being a good person or a bad person. From what I can tell, either way, you're screwed.
 * [Cut to a guy robbing a convenience store…]
 * George: [voiceover] Bad people are punished by society's law.
 * [… only to find the police outside. Bad guy is shot dead. Cut to a woman, standing precariously on a picket fence to lure a treed cat with food.]
 * George: [voiceover] And good people…
 * Cat Woman: Who's the pretty kitty? Ooh, you are. Come on, sweetheart.
 * [The woman falls off the fence. Pan down to the dead woman…]
 * George: [voiceover] … are punished by Murphy's Law.
 * [… then over to the cat on the ground, eating the food. Cut back to the office.]
 * George: [voiceover] So you see my dilemma.

 * [An aggressively cheery middle-aged woman approaches the morose George.]
 * Dolores: Hi, I'm Dolores Herbig… as in "her big…"
 * [She points to her eyes, grinning.]
 * Dolores: "… brown eyes?" I'll be your Happy Time career counselor.

 * Dolores: Some college, huh? Didn't finish?
 * George: Some seemed like enough.

 * [Referring to her nagging mother…]
 * George: Who had the nerve to name you "Joy"?

 * [As a toilet seat from the re-entering Mir station plummets through the sky, George is awkwardly moving through a city plaza.]
 * George: [voiceover] They say your entire life flashes in front of your eyes the moment before you die? That might be true if you're terminally ill, or your parachute doesn't open…
 * [She looks up to see the fireball heading straight for her.]
 * George: [voiceover] … but if death sneaks up on you, the only thing you have time to think is…
 * George: Aw, shit.

 * George: [voiceover] I didn't know what was more disturbing: being dead or the fact that the first man to touch my naked body was a coroner.

 * George: [voiceover] Everyone always says the same shit at funerals... they talk about how sweet, wonderful, and oh-so-full-of-life you were, how it was your time and you can't question God's plan... they never say anything bad. You could be the biggest turd in the toilet bowl and you'd still come out smelling like a rose.

 * George: So what's next? Onward and upward?
 * Rube: Onward not upward. No pearly gates for you, no choirs of angels neither.
 * George: You dick! You're sending me to hell?!
 * Rube: Don't flatter yourself. You're not that interesting.

 * George: That's Roxy. She could kick your ass.

 * [seeing un-George for the first time]
 * George: Who decides what we look like?
 * Mason: I don't know. Maybe this is what our inner child looks like when it grows up.
 * George: If that were the case, it looks like my inner child's road to adulthood was paved with crack cocaine, ten-dollar blowjobs, and maybe even a trick baby or two.

Dead Girl Walking (1.2)

 * George: I've been dead for seven days. Okay, that's a little dramatic.

 * Roxy: You know what your problem is? You wake up every morning wondering what the world's gonna do for you, wondering who's gonna bend over backwards, kiss your ass and make you happy when you should just thank God for another day and leave it the fuck at that.

 * Roxy: Sir, I'm going to say this as politely as possible. I will fuck you up.

 * Rube: Well, you really fucked the dog, Peanut.
 * George: What?
 * Rube: What? You had an appointment.
 * George: I didn't make an appointment.
 * Roxy: Beat her.
 * Rube: Doesn't matter who made the appointment. You had an appointment.
 * George: Correct me if I'm wrong but- mission accomplished.
 * Rube: You're wrong. That was me correcting you.
 * George: I'm confused.
 * Roxy: He's still in there, you silly bitch.
 * [Flashback to the dead man's soul screaming as he is forced to watch his own autopsy.]
 * George: Holy shit! Is he in pain?
 * Rube: Physically, no. He's dead.  But emotionally, I imagine this sort of thing is pretty traumatic.

 * Rube: You like spaghetti, George? I like spaghetti.  I like board games.  I like grabbing a trifecta with that long shot on top...  that ozone smell you get from air purifiers...  and I like knowing the space between my ears is immeasurable...  Mahler's first, Bernstein conducting. You've got to think about all the things you like and decide whether they're worth sticking around for.  And if they are, you'll find a way to do this.
 * George: And what if I don’t?
 * Rube: Then you go away, and you don't get to like anything anymore.

Curious George (1.3)

 * George: Do you really care how it's going with me?
 * Rube: Sure, I make my face look like this and the concerned words come out.

 * George: [voice over] One desperate attempt after another to find something in common with someone else and then cling. “Hey, you have ten fingers, I have ten fingers, let's be friends. We'll make rules and slogans. Then if we find someone with nine fingers, we can beat the crap out of them.”

 * Joy: You're just lucky we are not doing this with my mother, she used to make us practice smiling before we left the house.
 * Reggie: That's because she doesn't like your smile.
 * Joy: Did she tell you that?
 * Reggie: Yeah, she said it was fake.
 * Joy: That bitch.

 * George: What would happen if everybody died?
 * Mason: What do you mean?
 * George: Like if we were the only ones left
 * Mason: Oh, like if the frogs ate everyone on the planet?
 * George: Yeah.
 * Mason: I reckon we'd be shoveling a lot of frog shit.

 * George: So... my whole life, everything... All I get to keep are thoughts and memories?
 * Rube: That's all we ever have, Peanut.

Reapercussions (1.4)

 * Secretary: I'm sorry Mr. Munroe isn't available.
 * George: Did you tell him it's important?
 * Secretary: Yes, but he's just on his way out of the office.
 * George: It'll only take a second. Please, I'll be quick.
 * Secretary: He's not gonna see you. He doesn't know who you are or what this is regarding.
 * George: I'm the girl his son drugged and it's regarding him videotaping me while homeless people had sex with my unconscious body.
 * Secretary: I'll double check.

 * George: I was just calling you, to see if there was anything I could do to help.
 * George: [voiceover] I became aware of the words only after they left my mouth.
 * Dolores: I like the way you show initiative, Millie. I like it a lot. I'd better watch my back, pretty soon you'll have my job.
 * George: Only after you get a promotion.
 * Dolores: Oh.
 * George: [voiceover] I felt dirty.

 * Mason: I feel like I've been poisoned. Have you been poisoned?
 * Rube: No, not on purpose. I had some bad salmon once. I don't touch the stuff anymore.
 * Mason: Was it salmon mousse?
 * Rube: I don't know. It was canned.
 * [This is a reference to Monty Python's Meaning of Life where the Grim Reaper tells some snobs that they all died from eating bad salmon mousse made with canned salmon]

 * Rube: You pulled the wrong piece out of the Jenga tower little girl. You know what a hiccup is?
 * George: Yes.
 * Rube: You got yourself a hiccup. Something happens that's not supposed to happen. System has to figure out what that something is and fix it. P. J. Monroe.
 * George: I'm sorry.
 * Rube: What'd you do? Slash his tires? Have him arrested?
 * George: I just talked to him.
 * Rube: Must have been some conversation.
 * George: I guess.
 * Rube: I hope it was worth it. What, you got the hots for the guy or something?
 * George: No!
 * Rube: What, he give you some money?
 * George: No! [looks away]
 * Rube: Help...me...out.
 * George: I just wanted to see if I could do it?
 * Rube: I need somebody to give me lessons on how to communicate with you, Peanut, cuz I'm at a loss. The coin's in the slot, the gumball's on its way, and I'm plum out of wisdom. I'd start sleeping with the lights on if I were you.
 * George [voiceover]: I didn't know if that was a threat or a warning... Rube washed his hands of me. But that didn't mean I was off the hook. It only got worse. I broke the rules. The gravelings declared hunting season on my ass.

 * [Mason is sitting in a booth, looking uncomfortable]
 * Roxy: Are you high?
 * Mason: [miserably] I've got illegals in my bottom.

 * Mason: Heed his advice, and stay on his good side. He's like a volcano, George, he erupts and he spews lava on all the little villagers, they run around and, they run around for their lives. But, you know, he stops, and you can go back to the safety of your own home.

 * Mason: I've seen him stay mad for years, but you're different, he likes you. He won't stay mad as long.
 * George: Well how long will he be mad for? Days? Weeks?
 * Mason: What's the one after that?
 * Geroge: Months?
 * Mason: Yeah, that one.

Reaping Havoc (1.5)

 * Rube: You don't mess with fate, Peanut. People die when they are meant to die. There's no discussion. There's no negotiation. When life's done, it's done. You of all people should know that.

 * [George is at a meeting at work about scrapbooking and has a daydream.]
 * George: This is my work related scrapbook. [She opens to a page and points.] These are bone fragments I found in a telephone pole next to an exploded high voltage transformer. [Turns to another page.] And, this is from that nuclear reactor incident. I think it's a testicle!
 * [Everyone in her daydream laughs.]

 * [Rube, George and Betty are at a Bowers family reunion trying to find M. J. Bowers.]
 * Rube: Is your name M. J.?
 * Old Man Bowers: What?
 * Rube: My friend tells me 'go say hello to M. J. he's standin' over there' and she points to you.
 * Old Man Bowers: Which friend?
 * Rube: Right there. Pretty girl in the pant suit.
 * [They look at George and George waves.]
 * Old Man Bowers: That one? I don't know her. Uh, what is she pointing at me for?
 * Rube: She thought you were M. J. Bowers. Are you?
 * Old Man Bowers: Who wants to know?
 * Rube: It's a family reunion. We're all family. I'm just askin' your name.
 * Old Man Bowers: I don't know you, sir!
 * Rube: Rube. Hi, how are you? Listen, I'm tired of fuckin' around. Is your name M. J. Bowers or not?
 * Old Man Bowers [confused]: Uh...

 * (George sees Dolores bring a basket to her cubicle.)
 * George [voiceover]: If this is Murray the dead cat, I'm so outta here.

 * George: Why do I keep losing all the things and people that I care about?
 * Rube: That's what life is, Peanut.

My Room (1.6)

 * [Rube, George and Mason are in Der Waffle Haus and Mason sees Daisy walk inside.]
 * Mason: Oh, bloody hell.
 * Daisy: [To Casey, the waitress] Diet Coke, chipped ice, but not too much.
 * Rube: I think this is about Betty. I think George has her own Warren Commission in her head and somehow has implicated me in Betty's disappearance. Am I right or am I right?
 * George: [To Rube] Can you pass me the ketchup?
 * Mason: [To Daisy] How you doin'?
 * Daisy: I don't think so.
 * Rube: [To George] That's all you want from me? The ketchup? 'Cuz the ketchup I can handle. But the guilt trip about Betty, that I can not. I don't know where Betty is.
 * Mason: [To Daisy] Ah- hem. Um, hello? I'm Mason.
 * Daisy: I don't think so.
 * Mason: [To George] What does that mean?
 * George: It means she hates you.
 * Rube: You lost your friend, Peanut, I'm sorry. Reapers come and go. That's life.
 * George: [voiceover] I missed Betty like crazy. I had a thousand and one questions, and I didn't know where to begin. Where was she? Was she o.k.? Was she coming back? What did Rube know? Somebody had to confront Rube and ask these questions. And, hopefully this person will be along soon.
 * Daisy: [To Casey] This isn't chipped ice.
 * Casey: We don't have chipped ice. All we got's cubes.
 * Daisy: Well, if you have cubes, and an ice pick, then you have chipped. Do you, Casey, have an ice pick?
 * Casey: Mm- hm. Ya. A nice one.
 * Daisy: Well, then I think we need to start over.
 * Mason: [To Casey] Uh, you see that Diet Coke? Thats on me.(To Daisy): I'm Mason.
 * George: [To Mason] You're a fuckin' moron.
 * Daisy: [To Rube] Is your name Rube?
 * Rube: It is.
 * Daisy: Well, I'm Daisy. Daisy Adair.
 * Rube: Well, you're two days early, Daisy Adair.
 * Daisy: Well, aren't you lucky?
 * Rube: This is Mason, as we know. And this is George. Daisy's one of us. Daisy's a reaper.
 * Daisy: [To George] George? Is that your given name?
 * George: Georgia.
 * Daisy: That's much prettier, I think I'll call you Georgia.
 * George: [voiceover] I hated her instantly. With all my guts.
 * George: What is she doing here?
 * Rube: She was transfered.
 * George: From...?
 * Daisy: New York! SoHo.
 * George: Why were you transfered?
 * Daisy: Well, that's kind of personal.
 * Casey: [To Daisy] One Diet Coke. Chipped ice.
 * Daisy: Thank you so much, Casey.
 * Mason: So, Daisy. Now, seriously, that Diet Coke is on me.
 * (Daisy and Mason giggle and Daisy pours her Diet Coke on Mason.)
 * Mason: Ah!
 * Daisy: Excuse me, Miss! I need a refill.
 * George: [voiceover] I hated her a little less.

 * [George is standing outside the bathroom in her apartment, waiting, agitated, for Daisy to finish.]:
 * George: You know Daisy, I have a job, I mean what do you do?
 * Daisy: [Opens the door in a hurry, with a face masque on. Acting very Marilyn Monroe-ish.] Today I'm going to buy The New York Times, since you obviously don't have it delivered. Then I'm going to sit at that little corner shop and have a green tea and a muffin and then I'm going to look for a sweater set. This afternoon, if I'm so obligated, I’m going to collect someone's soul before they die. And if I look really pretty while I'm doing it well, then good for me. That's what I do, Georgia. [Slams the door shut]

 * Angus the Cook: Who's complaining about the eggs?
 * Rube: Oh, no complaints, just observations.
 * Angus the Cook: Such as?
 * Rube: The eggs are not good. Its normally a moot point at the a la carte price of $2.95. I love eggs. I love 'em fried, scrambled, soft-boiled, florentine. These I didn't love. So who do we blame - the hen or the cook?
 * [Angus glares at Rube]
 * Rube: Let's blame the hen.
 * [Angus walks away]
 * Rube: [offhand] He's a nice guy.

 * George: [shouting] Daisy? Listen, I have some things I want to say to you. You can't just move your shit into my apartment and kick me out of my own bed...
 * Daisy: [crying] I never ever get a break. My mother abandoned me. My father... was never a father. I never really had a real home or even a place that I felt like I belonged. Why can't I belong. Why can't you accept me? I just want you to hold me. This life has been a collection of...disappointments and...heartache.
 * [George tries to comfort Daisy and suddenly Daisy stops crying]
 * Daisy: And scene. Whew! "A collection of problems, disillusionment and unhappiness." Why do I always mutilate that line? Will you be a doll and help me run my lines? And please don't be afraid to stop me even if I'm off by one syllable, okay? Come on, it's magic time. Okay and... action!
 * [Daisy begins crying again. George throws the book down and storms off]

 * [The bowling team picks up George and cheers after she wins the game]
 * George: [voiceover] I felt something I had never felt before - a hand on my ass. Who the hell was cupping my ass? Probably that perv from I.S. [Looks at Delores] Oh God, I hope it was that perv from I.S. I also felt something else... that in some strange undead way, I was alive. I was flying.

Reaper Madness (1.7)

 * George: I know this is cliché to hate your boss but you're a real dickweed.
 * Rube: What you're feeling right now, the rage and frustration all knotted together, binding everything from your head to your digestive tract? That's my life with you.

 * George: So, uh, do you hear a lot of voices?
 * Ronnie: No, just one. I call him the Shepherd.
 * George: Does he tell you what to do?
 * Ronnie: Well, he doesn't control me. He spends most of his time yelling at me and making me feel stupid.
 * George: Hmmm... maybe it's my mother.

 * Ronnie: I knew it, you're Death.
 * George: No no. I'm just a small cog in the system.
 * Ronnie: Then Rube is Death.
 * George: No Rube is...middle management.

 * George: [voiceover] I'm not a big fan of weddings, but a job is a job. So I sat there watching those 50 happy people gathered to celebrate a marriage, dressed in their Sunday best, about to hear some priest's flowery words about the joining together of two souls, uniting as one... blah, blah, blah, blah... until death do them part, which would be in about 11 minutes.

 * George: What is it you wanted to say?
 * Ronnie: I just wanted to kiss you.
 * George: No...No way. I can't.
 * [Ronnie leans in and kisses George.]
 * George: [voiceover] It was my first post-death kiss. That alone made it memorable.
 * Ronnie: Actually, I came to say good-bye.
 * George: [voiceover] It was also my first post-death kiss-off.

A Cook (1.8)

 * [Casey the waitress brings the reapers' order to the table, setting plates before Rube and George]
 * Rube: [gesturing at his plate] What fresh hell is this?
 * Casey: Corned beef hash and eggs.
 * Rube: Corned beef hash, I speak not only for myself but aficionados of the dish, is to be fried, with a crisp exterior. This is...I don't know what this is.  I'm flummoxed.
 * Daisy: It doesn't look good.
 * Rube: I do not say this phrase lightly, in this hallowed place: This is fucking inedible.

 * [Rube opens his apartment door, goes in, and picks up a manila envelope on the floor. He opens it, and extracts a single sheet of paper which bears what appears to be a list, and begins to read it as he closes the door.  After the door closes, there is a beat, then the door opens quickly and Rube comes storming out, looking down the hall.]
 * Rube: What the FUCK is wrong with you?
 * [We hear the sound of an elevator beginning to operate. Rube looks back down at the list, then back down the hall in disgust, goes back into his apartment and slams the door.]

 * Angus: Bang, another man down.

 * [referring to an old lady that George is about to reap]
 * Daisy: How old do you think she is? I'm thinking 70.
 * George: I don't know. I'm not good at that.
 * Daisy: It's not supposed to be good at it, its just a game - Guess someone's age.
 * George: How old are you? Like 35?
 * Daisy: Yeah, you're not good at it.

 * (George brings J. D. with her into Der Waffle Haus where she meets Rube, Mason and Daisy.)
 * Rube: What a gorgeous dog.
 * George: Isn't she?
 * Mason: Is it a golden?
 * George: Yes! She is.
 * Mason: What's its name?
 * George: J. D.
 * [Rube looks underneath J. D.]
 * Rube: J. D.'s a male.
 * George: Yes, she is.
 * Mason: Why you callin' him a she is he's a he?
 * George: Because dogs are referred to in the feminine.
 * Rube: In the way some guy would talk about a car?
 * George: Exactly.
 * Rube: As in, she's got eight under the hood, she gets twenty to the gallon?
 * George: ... Sure.
 * Rube: Actually, you refer to dogs by their sex. As in, here boy, down girl.

 * (Daisy and George are talking about J. D. and whether they should let him into their apartment.)
 * Daisy: Well, I know this isn't something you care about, but I own some very beautiful clothes.
 * George: What's your point?
 * Daisy: He looks like a 'shedder'.
 * George: Ha! That's absolutely something I can live with.

 * Delores: The homeless are desperate, passionate lovers, but they will rob you blind.

 * Delores: [typing on her computer] Millie...did you put detergent in the dishwasher?
 * George: Uh, no...I thought you did.
 * Delores: Oh, silly us. We'll just have to locate those dishes and wash 'em again.
 * George: Your computer told you that?
 * Delores: No, silly, "stinky5000" did.

 * Delores: [on how her website operates] I've got a camera there [she waves at the camera], a camera there, a camera there, and a camera there. Not in the bathroom though... [in a conspiratorial tone] people watching me in the potty would just be plain wrong.
 * George: [voiceover] ...As opposed to watching you everywhere else?

 * Delores: [On the name of her website] I was going to call it "Her Big" Website, but I was afraid I'd attract people with [indicates with her fingers] a fetish for big things.

 * George: So, people actually pay to watch you?
 * Delores: I do get two cents every time someone clicks on but that would go straight to my favorite charity - The American Amputees Association.
 * George: [voiceover] Oh, Christ! My boss has a wooden leg.

Sunday Mornings (1.9)

 * George: My mother was more excited about me going to college than I was. It was like "Hey, here's a socially acceptable way to evict my daughter from our house."

 * Mason: I'll show you both, we'll be like Romeo and Juliet. We will.
 * George: You do know how that story ended, don't you?
 * Daisy: If Romeo had just masturbated a couple of times a week he would have saved both those nice families a heap of trouble.

 * Rube: You need to fix it.
 * Roxy: He put his hands on me.
 * Rube: Last time I checked, being pissed off wasn't enough of a reason to remove a person's soul from their body. Don't do that again.
 * Roxy: I didn't think he'd turn into a nutball.
 * Rube: Well, how would you have responded, Roxy? God appeared to the man.
 * Roxy: I wouldn't be making up words and shit.
 * Rube: He's creating a mythology to take back to his people. Joseph Smith had the same thing happen to him. Now the Mormons have a monopoly on the hotel industry.
 * Roxy: Well what do you want me to do?
 * Rube: It's about restoring the status quo, the guy wasn't supposed to get enlightened, he was supposed to get a parking ticket. You got to turn him back into a prick. If you ever take someone's soul again, without first having a post-it, I'm gonna break this pipe off in your ass.

 * George: [voiceover] As you get older, the chance of making a really good new friend is probably about the same as being hit by a truck. And if you're hit by a truck (which is to say, dead) the chances of making a good friend are even slimmer.

 * George: [voiceover] Human beings are simple, predictable clichés. Broken hearts, betrayal, it's all been done a billion times before. The problem is, every time still hurts like the first. And if you're lucky enough to recover, you can be sure that just as you finish filling in all the cracks in your life, the next one is starting to open.

Business Unfinished (1.10)

 * [Dolores is setting George up for a conference roomful of collating.]
 * Dolores: Collating is so Zen, so meditative. I suppose it's the rhythmic nature of repetition that frees the mind to think deep thoughts. It's like sweeping! Whoosh! Do you know where I'm coming from?
 * George: [voiceover] Jupiter?
 * George: I do.
 * Dolores: You'll be amazed to discover how much your busy-bee hands have accomplished!
 * George: Bees don't have hands.
 * Dolores: No, they don't, do they? [grinning] But you know who does? You do. And you know what they say about idle hands?
 * George: [voiceover] They'll strangle the person who asked them to collate?

 * [Roxy gives everyone a balloon]
 * George: What's the occasion?
 * Daisy: I'm guessing she had sex with a carnie.
 * Roxy: Why do I need to have an occasion to spread the love?
 * Mason: Because you are an ornery bitch and you eat puppy dogs for breakfast.

 * Daisy: Goddamn it Georgia! Show some ambition! That's what separates us from the animals, you know. It's not the opposable thumb.

 * (Daisy goes to the Point Grey Club to find her reap and stops at a table where she meets Mary Kate Hourihan.)
 * M. K. Hourihan: [To waiter] We'll have that dessert now, I think.
 * Daisy: [To M. K.'s friend]: I'm so sorry to interrupt. That scarf is absolutely beautiful. Where did you get it, if you don't mind me asking?
 * Joyce: It was a gift. My husband bought it for me in San Francisco.
 * Daisy: So flattering.
 * Mary Kate: As are you. What's your name, dear?
 * Daisy: Daisy Adair.
 * Joyce: Do we know any Adairs?
 * Mary Kate: Shawn Adair. But I don't think you're related to him. You're much too fresh and lovely and he is a little oily. Lebanese, I think. Anyway, uh, where were you raised, Daisy?
 * Daisy: I am one of the Greenwich Adairs.
 * Joyce: Greenwich, Connecticut?
 * Daisy: Is there any other?
 * [All laugh.]
 * Joyce: I'm Joyce, and this is Sylvia...
 * Sylvia: Hello.
 * Joyce: ... Jane and Mary Kate.
 * Daisy: So nice to meet you all.
 * [A dessert trolley comes along their table and they all gasp.]
 * Joyce: Ah! Bananas Foster. My favorite.
 * Mary Kate: Joyce is turning 30. For the 31st year in a row.
 * Joyce: Are you married, Daisy? I have a son.
 * Daisy: I'm single, but I'm not really in the market. (Laughs)
 * Mary Kate: Are you a lesbian? Sylvia has a daughter. (The waiter lights the dessert.) Oh, how exciting.
 * [Sylvia starts choking.]
 * Joyce: That dessert is so evil. 800,000 calories a bite.
 * Mary Kate: Oh please, it's not like it's going to kill you.
 * Daisy: I believe your friend is choking on a sugar cookie.
 * Mary Kate: Oh, my gosh.
 * [Joyce tries to help Sylvia and Daisy takes Mary Kate's soul. The waiter comes over to do the Heimlich and the cookie shoots out of her mouth onto Mary Kate. She throws her arms back only to catch herself on fire. Everyone gasps.]
 * Joyce: Shit. Mary Kate's on fire.
 * [Sylvia throws her drink on Mary Kate, causing the flames to spread]
 * Sylvia: Ohh! My coffee was Irish!

 * Mary Kate: Is this a slum?
 * Daisy: Suburbs.
 * Mary Kate: Oh well, same thing.

The Bicycle Thief (1.11)

 * [At Der Waffle Haus.]
 * Daisy: Georgia! Are you wearing a fragrance this morning?
 * George: It's orange juice. I hate the bus.
 * Rube: Public transportation is the great equalizer.
 * George: I don't wanna be equal. Fuck equal.
 * Mason: Steal a car.
 * Daisy: What about a bicycle? I once had Dorothy's original bike from The Wizard of Oz. I knew someone from the props department.
 * Mason: Don't you mean you blew somebody in the props department?
 * Daisy: Knew, blew, tomato, tomahto. Once baby Judy died, I didn't want to ride it anymore, so I sold at an auction.
 * Rube: Speakin' of death, let's get to work. (Hands out post-its.)

 *

 * [George is at Happy Time discussing her new job.]
 * Dolores: I'm not certain I'm understanding you, Millie. You've already contacted the employer--
 * George: Uh, I didn't. Um, Josh called them.
 * Dolores: Who is Jo- never mind. What did the employer say?
 * George: Yes.
 * Dolores: Yes what?
 * George: He said, 'Yes, I'm hired.' I didn't do anything. Josh did everything.
 * Dolores: Does Josh know you're a valued employee of Happy Time?
 * George: That's very nice of you, Dolores, but I thought I'd just look for something a little more 'living wage-ish'. Like, I wanna buy a bike.
 * Dolores: Well, I wanna ride in the Kentucky Derby, but you don't see me in racing silks, do you? Tsk. Well, when do they want you to begin?
 * George: Tomorrow.
 * Dolores: Tomorrow?! Aha. Interesting. Well, G. F. Y... Good for you! Looks like I've got a going away party to organize. Excuse me.
 * George: [voiceover] G. F. M. Good for me!

 * [George is sitting out of her going away party and Stephanie walks up to her and whispers something]
 * George: Oh, no thank you.
 * Stephanie: It's no big deal. It's just a little tab you put on your tongue.
 * George: You know, I feel my current reality is altered enough.
 * [Stephanie nods]
 * Stephanie: I did one.
 * George: G. F. Y.!
 * [Stephanie hugs George making George feel violated]
 * Stephanie: Let's look out for each other today, okay?
 * George: Okay.

 * [George walks into an office to find Stephanie hiding]
 * George: [voiceover] It turns out that certain remarks like, 'Let's look out for each other,' which seemed casual and meaningless had a special significance here at Happy Time.
 * [Stephanie is under a desk rummaging through trash.]
 * Stephanie: Fuck. I can't find it. I can't find it.
 * George: Stephanie?
 * Stephanie: I can't- I can't find it.
 * George: You can't find what?
 * Stephanie: Blue! Red's taken it over!
 * George: Red's got blue?
 * Stephanie: Red's been attacking all the colors! We gotta stop it!
 * George: We do?
 * Stephanie: Yellow's next. It doesn't stand a chance! Poor yellow.
 * George: Why don't we go for a walk?
 * Stephanie: Nope! No walking!
 * George: I'm going to call the Color Police. [She picks up the phone] I'd like to report a color crime in progress. [To Stephanie] I'm on hold.

 * Joy: This is a lost cause.
 * Clancy: Maybe we should split up.
 * Joy: Fine! Fine, you walk away but you better find yourself one hell of a lawyer.
 * Clancy: Split up to find the dog!
 * Joy: [after a beat] Oh, that's a good idea.

 * Henry: [contemplating suicide after his partner, Gary, has died] Why would I re-think this? Thirty years with that beautiful man and I am not getting into that bed tonight without him and I am not waking up tomorrow without him. I won't, I can't. We were going to Kyoto in the fall. They have beautiful gardens there and I won't go without Gary.

Nighthawks (1.12)

 * [Rube passes out self-evaluation forms to the reapers]
 * Rube: Mason, please write legibly. There were complaints last year.
 * Mason: Well, that's ridiculous. I always had high marks for penmanship.
 * Rube: Seriously, I saw the thing. You write like you speak. I could barely understand a word.
 * Mason: Oh, you know what? In all honesty, I was, like, on something when I filled out my form last year.
 * Rube: Are you on something tonight?
 * Mason: No.
 * Roxy: For real?
 * Mason: [grinning] Well, a little bit.

 * [Daisy is sharpening all the pencils the Rube has provided for the reapers to fill out their forms]
 * Roxy: Sharpen another pencil and I'm breakin' one in your little pink ass.

 * [Rube walks over to Mason and George sneaks a peak at Rube's post-it.]
 * George: [To Rube] It's 3851 Beatrice Lane!
 * Rube: It's not your post-it.
 * George: That's my old house! That's where my family is!
 * Rube: I'm aware.
 * George: Wha- who is it?!
 * Rube: It's not your post-it. There are rules, Georgia.
 * George: What is going to happen in my driveway?
 * Rube: It's not your driveway anymore.
 * George: You know what I mean.
 * Rube: I do. It's not your driveway anyway.
 * George: Well, then. I'm coming with you.
 * Rube: That's not going to happen.
 * George: Someone dies, at my house, and you don't tell me about it?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!

 * [Talking about Rube's flashbacks of George]
 * George: You have a problem with me?
 * Rube: Yes, ma'am, I do. And one thing you should know about me by now, I am a problem solver.
 * George: How do I put this delicately?
 * Rube: [To the test-takers] Does this concern you? [To George] Try and choose your words carefully.
 * [George nods and is very angry.]
 * George: Blow me.
 * [George walks away.]

 * Rube: If you stand too close to a painting — all you see are patches of color, if you stand too far back, you can't see any of the detail. Right now this is your particular perspective and if you ask me—-
 * George: I'm a little too close.

Vacation (1.13)

 * Daisy: What do you say the very second we're done here, we go back to my place for a drink?
 * Mason: Don't fuck with me Daisy.
 * Daisy: I probably won't, but a drink isn't gonna kill anybody, least of all us. Right?

 * Roxy: [about Crystal] Does it type?

 * [Daisy's final thought before dying] Why has no one ever loved me?

 * George: [voiceover] Maybe death was the temp job, and life was the vacation. A vacation you were supposed to spend with the people that you loved… with the people who loved you, and if life was that kind of vacation, what then? What would your last thoughts be then?

 * [The reapers are all in the Happy Time office, late at night, taking advantage of the fact that the Gravelings are taking the day off to catch up on paperwork. Rube lights his pipe.]
 * George: You can't smoke in here.
 * Rube: Ah, fuck that bullshit, they can blow me.

Rest in Peace (1.14)

 * Roxy: So what are you? Rube's butt-boy?
 * George: Why? Did you resign?

 * Rube: A wise man knows how much he doesn't know.

 * [Clancy's cell phone rings]
 * Joy: You answer that phone and I will absolutely shove it up your ass.

 * George: [voiceover] The day I dropped out of college, I remember lying on my bed. My mother came into my room, and she'd been crying. She stared at me for a long time and then she said, "You only have one shot at life, Georgia. This is no dress rehearsal." And I said, "You know what, Mom? Maybe I don't even want to be in the play." A month later I was killed. I wonder sometimes if someone was listening.

 * George: [voiceover] That night, a man was killed by a speeding car and I was there to take his soul. The street on which he died turned into a flowing river of light, and he hesitated at its banks. I told him to take a deep breath as if its the last one you will ever take, because sometimes in life, or in death I guess, you just never know.

Send in the Clown (2.1)

 * Mason: Nah, five deaths is not a disaster.
 * George: How many deaths is a disaster?
 * Mason: More than five. Five's bullshit.
 * George: How many?
 * Mason: 16 to 20, disaster; 21 and up, catastrophe; 8 to 15 is a calamity.
 * Rube: 7 and under?
 * Mason: That's a cryin' shame.

 * Mason: Are you going to finish those hashbrowns?
 * Roxy: Probably not.
 * (he takes them from her plate and eats them. Roxie stabs him with her knife but he moves his hand just in time.)
 * Mason: Fucking bloody hell.
 * Roxy: I'm outta here.
 * Mason: Did you see that? I mean just because I wanted some of her hashbrowns.
 * Rube: I was there.
 * Mason: I've never seen such violence over such small potatoes.
 * Rube: Oh, that was almost clever.
 * Mason: What was almost clever, Rube?
 * Rube: The thing about the hashbrowns being small potatoes.
 * Mason: I don't get it...because hashbrowns are small potatoes.
 * Rube: Never mind.

The Ledger (2.2)

 * [Mason practices at being the world's most incompetent shell game actor.]
 * Rube: You know why people play the shell game?
 * Mason: Because they think they can beat the odds.
 * Rube: Wrong. They think they can beat you. They think they're smarter than you. [pause] In this case, they're right.
 * Mason: I'm smarter than you think.
 * Rube: You smart enough to play stupid?
 * Mason: I am so smart, I'm practically retarded.

 * Security Expert: Ripoff. Report... Identify... Prove... Ostracize... Fire.
 * George: [aside, to Delores] Rip-of?
 * Security Expert: You got a problem there Millie?
 * George: [aka Millie] You misspelled ripoff. You dropped an 'f'.
 * Security Expert: Oh I see. We have ourselves a smart-ass.
 * George: Don't you mean smart as?

Ghost Story (2.3)

 * Rube: When I was your age, I used to treat the crust like it was just there to hold the good stuff in. I used to leave the whole back end of it on the plate. As I got older, I learned to appreciate the crust.

 * George: [voiceover] Once upon a time, there was a girl named George. Who couldn't quite forget… there was once upon a time.

 * George [after being asked what animal she thought best described her] I'm a cat. I mean not like a house cat, not like Murray, Delores. I'm a stray, who wanders the streets alone, kind of distant and mean. I'm not a cat you'd wanna pet or bring home to your kids... you just don't know where those claws are, ya know, and I'm a black cat and I have many, many lives... and now you know who I am.

The Shallow End (2.4)

 * Daisy: You do that, you know. You withhold the love.
 * Rube: How can I withhold that which I do not possess?

 * Theo: Relax, son, they're just balls.

Hurry (2.5)

 * [A woman cuts in line at the post office]
 * Rube: Afternoon, ladies. Are you two old friends?
 * Woman: Eh, her daughter is in my son's class.
 * Rube: I have a question for you. Is everyone in this line an asshole?
 * Woman: Excuse me?
 * Rube: Is everyone you just cut in front of an asshole?
 * Woman: Uhm. No?
 * Rube: So it's just you then.
 * Woman: I have children in the car.
 * Rube: I have a cake in the oven. He's got three minutes left on the meter.  She's got a lunch meeting.  We all have a finite amount of time.  Now get in the back of the line.  And don't use your children like that — it's shameful.

 * George: Everyone says "live in the now," but that's bullshit. I mean, who lives in the moment?  We're too busy thinking about what happens next... or what didn't happen at all.

In Escrow (2.6)

 * [Crystal and George/Millie are chuckling over a digestively challenged applicant. Dolores is unamused.]
 * Dolores: Irritable Bowel Syndrome is a serious affliction. Most people don't know this, but Marilyn Monroe had IBS.
 * George: Is that what blew her skirt up?

 * [Dolores has just given George a new assignment to pick an applicant for a new pharmaceutical company account]
 * George/Millie: Backup. Did you just say choose, me?
 * Dolores: No I said, "You choose." You're in a new position now. You're like, the prettiest girl at prom, or the sluttiest girl if you went to Catholic school. You get to pick.

Rites of Passage (2.7)

 * Dolores: You know, when you're young like you are, Millie, it's easy. Man, woman, bottom, top… sex is this big buffet, and you're just a… fat man with a fork, but… as you get older, it's harder to get a fork.

 * [A newspaper clipping's succinct summary of George's death: TERROR TOILET TOTALS TEEN.]

The Escape Artist (2.8)

 * [Roxy gives Mason a hard time about ordering a drink during an airplane flight reap.]
 * Mason: Roxy, I've never flown before. I'm a bit nervous, all right?
 * Roxy: Well, congratulations, baby! Drink up. Buckle up. And don't fuck it up.

Be Still My Heart (2.9)

 * [Tending to a heart attack victim, Dolores discovers the office defibrillator has orange goo between the paddles.]
 * Dolores: Who has been making grilled cheese sandwiches with the defibrillator paddles?

 * [Clancy has given Reggie a poem, a portion of Shakespeare's Twelfth Sonnet.]
 * Reggie: He said for you to read it. He said the end's the best part.
 * Joy: Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake // And die as fast as they see others grow; // And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence // Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
 * Reggie: What does it mean?
 * Joy: It's Shakespeare. It means... it means you should have kids because then you're never alone.
 * Reggie: Is Dad trying to get back together with you?
 * Joy: No sweetie, no. He did it for you. It's about you.

Death Defying (2.10)

 * Ray Summers: Okay George, five reasons why men are scum and women let us get away with it. 1. We all only want one thing. No exceptions. 2. We fall in love before we have that thing, and then fall back out once we've had it, whereas women conversly fall in love afterwards. 3. We will lie, cheat, steal or murder to get that one thing. Why am I sugarcoating this? You're a big girl. In order to fuck you. 4. We freely admit the numbers 1 through 3 and women don't care, and the number 5 reason why men are scum and women let us get away with it: You can't live without us.
 * George: (Raising her shot glass to toast him) Here's to your bullshit, Ray. (Throws three more darts and gets a bullseye on the last one) Fucking men.

 * George: [voiceover] They say coming clean is good for the soul, that it puts things in perspective. You can get a sense of your place in the order of things...a sense of who you really are and what's important. This is my perspective. I am a grim reaper. I take souls. I do not go to prom. I do not live happily ever after. This is who I am. Anyone got a problem with that?

 * Mason: And now Mason will show little Georgie the finer art of stress relief through petty vandalism. Don't get me wrong. We will egg Trip's fucking mansion, but first...[Holds out a pen]

Ashes to Ashes (2.11)

 * [Reggie leaves her dog J.D. in Joy's care when her Goth friend "Raven" finds him too "preppy".]
 * Joy: [to J.D.] Oh, don't you worry. She needs a friend who's human. Or something close.

Forget Me Not (2.12)

 * [Flashback to elementary-school-age George reading A Tale of Two Cities instead of going to her friend's birthday party.]
 * Joy: We bought her a present!
 * Young George: What did you get her?
 * Joy: We got her a flannel nightgown. With pretty little flowers on it!
 * Young George: Mom. You're gonna get me killed.
 * Joy: Georgia, don't be silly. We're going.
 * Young George: Not.
 * Joy: You are so!
 * Young George: So not.
 * Joy: Why do you have to be so obstinate?
 * Young George: Obstinate. O-B-S-T-I-N-A-T-E. Stubborn.
 * Joy: Georgia Lass, you cannot spend your entire life with your nose stuck in a book!
 * Young George: Try me.

 * [At a spelling bee, emcee G. McFadden's soul finds itself sitting beside George and Mason.]
 * McFadden: What just happened?
 * Mason: Oh, I'm afraid you are D-E-D…
 * McFadden: No, that's D-E-A-D.
 * Mason: I was joking!

 * [At the restaurant, Mason and George return from the bee.]
 * Rube: Hey! How'd it go?
 * Mason: G-R-E-A-T.
 * George: It was a spelling bee.
 * Rube: [to Mason] Seriously, how'd it go?
 * Mason: F-A-N-T-A-S-T-I-C.
 * Rube: How do I get it to stop?
 * Mason: Well, go on, Georgie, tell him.
 * George: Well, as far as senseless, brutal deaths go, I say it went beautifully.
 * Mason: Yeah! So maybe a little simple "thank you" is in order, instead of your constant irritation, Ruby. Maybe a little bit of G-R-A-T… uh… t… i-i-tude, tude.
 * [Rube hands out Post-its.]
 * Rube: For you, and you.
 * Mason: Where's Roxy?
 * Rube: She has got a personal day.
 * Mason: Well, why don't I have a personal day?
 * Rube: Because you're an F-U-C-K-U-P.
 * Mason: "Fuck up" has two words.
 * George: Actually, "fuck-up" is a hyphenate.
 * [They all look at her.]
 * George: Well, it is!

 * [Ray introduces himself to Rube at Der Waffle Haus and shakes his hand.]
 * Ray: That's quite a death grip you got there, Rube.

 * [George tries to find a way to communicate to memory-challenged Nina that she has died.]
 * George: Do you want to hear a story, Nina?
 * Nina: Oh, I love stories.
 * George: Well, once there was a girl named George. She was 18 years old. And she didn't have a husband William, she didn't have have a daughter named Beth, but she had a mom, a father, and a sister. And, one day, she went outside — it was a sunny day, a few clouds, but an ordinary day — and she went out to get some lunch, and this man… he stopped me. And he talked to me. And he knew my last name. I told him to leave me alone, but… then something from the sky fell. And I didn't feel anything. I couldn't remember anything… at first. But then I did. I realized… I died.
 * [George reaches over to Nina's memory Post-it pad.]
 * George: I… died.
 * [She writes on the pad.]
 * George: I'm dead.

 * [Mason buries Ray's corpse as Daisy watches him through the window crying.]
 * George: [voiceover] There are things inside you that no one wants to face. Things that you keep secret, even from yourself. But secrets are funny. The things you try to hide always turn out to be the things you can't forget

Last Call (2.13)

 * Mason: You know, this morning, when you said you spent your last day on Earth, your very, very last day on Earth, stapling?
 * George: Filing.
 * Mason: My God, that's even worse. You said you regretted it, didn't you?
 * George: Yeah of course. Who gives a shit?
 * Mason: My God, I give a shit. Rube tells us to be on the periphery. To keep away from...things. To keep our distance from...life. Our family...
 * George: Yeah?
 * Mason: God, it is nonsense. You get close, Georgie, you get close to everybody that ever meant anything to you.
 * George: Have you been drinking?
 * Mason: Of course I've bloody been drinking. And it's last call. And you gotta...you gotta drink up while you still can.

 * Daisy:[Rejecting Mason's ring] I won't fall in love, I won't get married, I won't grow old with someone, not with you or anyone.

Always (2.14)

 * George: [voiceover] We think we can't do something… [chanting] we think we can't, we think we can't, we think we can't… but we can.

 * George: [voiceover] I guess there's always something out there to hide from, something out there you just can't face. Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi. So you'll hide for as long as you can, but that's not easy either, all that hiding... Five Mississippi. In the end, what you were so afraid of turns out not to be so scary after all. Six Mississippi, seven. Because you have to know that if you're hiding, more often than not, your fears will come looking for you.

Haunted (2.15)

 * George: [voiceover] Now that I'm older and… deader… I see that Halloween is amateur night for death.

 * [George stops by her tombstone, where her sleeping mother and sister have camped out for El Día de los Muertos (The Day of the Dead).]
 * George: [voiceover] I'm not supposed to be here… but I am. I don't know if I'm supposed to watch over them… or just haunt them.
 * [She leaves some candy and tucks their blanket around them. She walks off, then turns back to see Reggie looking her way.]
 * George: [voiceover] Either way, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't having fun.
 * [She smiles and resumes her departure.]
 * George: [voiceover] I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to be here. Walking through a graveyard, the day after Halloween… on a quiet and beautiful November morning… It's not so bad, being dead like me.

Major cast

 * Undead
 * Georgia "George" Lass: Ellen Muth
 * Rube: Mandy Patinkin
 * Mason: Callum Blue
 * Roxy: Jasmine Guy
 * Betty: Rebecca Gayheart
 * Daisy Adair: Laura Harris
 * Living
 * Joy Lass: Cynthia Stevenson
 * Reggie Lass: Britt McKillip
 * Clancy Lass: Greg Kean
 * Delores Herbig: Christine Willes
 * Crystal: Crystal Dahl

title: Dead Like Me


text:
William McDougall

William McDougal FRS (22 June 1871 – 28 November 1938) was an early twentieth century psychologist who spent the first part of his career in the UK and the latter part in the U.S.

Quotes

 * Among all the disputes and uncertainties of the ethnographers about the races of Europe, one fact stands out clearly – namely, that we can distinguish a race of northerly distribution and origin, characterized physically by fair color of hair and skin and eyes, by tall stature and dolichocephaly (i.e. long shape of head), and mentally by great independence of character, individual initiative, and tenacity of will. Many names have been used to denote this type, ... . It is also called the Nordic type.
 * The Group Mind (p.159, Arno Press, 1973).

 * Hypnotism is undoubtedly the most important, the most fruitful and far-reaching method of experimental psychology.
 * Hypnotism (1945) by Axel Wayne Bacon. In the Preface to the 1960 edition, Nelson-Hall Co., Publishers

title: William McDougall


text:
Talk:Syd Barrett

"and I'm most obliged you for making it clear that I'm not here"
"and I'm most obliged you for making it clear that I'm not here"

We'll miss you more than we knew. I wish some great musicians like Hitchcock, Pink Floyd, Blur, David Bowie, The Cure, R.E.M., Radiohead and many more could tribute to Syd with a new CD or a Live Concert like the one they had for Freddie Mercury when he died.

Now more than ever we want to hear Syd's work bigtime. I suppose Syd would have hated the word BIGTIME, but i assure you a lot of his fans don't.

Greetings

Danie & Jaco

Vleesbaai South Africa

"Your heroes for ghosts" -- -- the chicken twister quote sounds like an obvious fake

Unsourced

 * Apart from being a good guitarist, I don't really have any ambition.

 * Really, we have only just started to scrape the surface of effects and ideas of lights and music combined; we think that the music and the lights are part of the same scene, one enhances and adds to the other. We feel that in the future, groups are going to have to offer much more than just a pop show. They'll have to offer a well-presented theatre show.  Melody Maker, 1967-12-09

 * I'm Sorry, I Don't Speak French

 * I'm going far further than you could ever possibly imagine.
 * His reply when asked by a former friend where he was going as he walked down London's Oxford Street, circa 1970.

 * All we can do is make records which we like. If the kids don't, then they won't buy it.

 * I never felt so close to a guitar as that silver one with mirrors that I used on stage all the time. I swapped it for the black one, but I've never played it.

 * Well, I think of me being a painter eventually…

 * Yeah…that's nice. Well, I've only got an electric. I've got a black Fender which needs replacing. I haven't got any blue jeans…I really prefer electric music.

 * The guy who lives next door to me paints, and he's doing it well, so I don't really feel the need.

 * I like to do the words and music simultaneously, so when I go into the studio I've got the words on one side and my music on the other. I suppose I could do with some practice.

Syd Barrett - Quotes by Jenny Fabian
It is intolerable that Jenny Fabian quoted Syd in her book here. I knew Syd / Roger Barrett during my years in London. He had several times expressed his anger over this book. Ms. Fabian never met him in person. (Probably only seen on stage.) And other figures in the book do not agree. Ms. Fabian was forced even then for legal reasons to change the name to Ben. One should not let something stand here in first place of the quotes.

DMS REVISION: Jenny Fabian gave pseudonyms to all the musicians in her escapades. At the time, it was common knowledge on the London scene as to who the Relation, et al. really were.

title: Talk:Syd Barrett


text: Category:Pink Floyd

title: Category:Pink Floyd