Sunday, February 27, 2011

Dearest Papa

I was eight when you died.
The loss of you is one that still exists.
Papa why did you leave us when you did?
There is still so much I crave to know
about you and the life you lived.

A short time you lived
during my lifetime.
I know you loved and devoted
on all of your progeny,
and to this day I remember you.

Children rummaging through the garden,
and feeding milk to the little lambs.
The times that you rocked me to sleep,
or held me while you would swing.
No matter what, your memory will long survive.

I remember horseback rides,
and drives around the loop.
A trip to the well for a cool drink.
You never said much,
but what was said,
will stick forever
in each life you touched.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Quote of the Day: Febrary 3, 2011

So yesterday my roommate and I watched the movie Stranger than Fiction which is a great movie! I really enjoyed it, and I think anyone who is a writer might. Anyway I thought that it had some great quotes and I thought that I would share some of my favorites. Enjoy!
P.S. sorry that there are so many but I thought they were all great quotes.

Dr. Jules Hilbert: Have you met anyone recently who might loathe the very core of you?
Harold Crick: I just started auditing a woman who told me to get bent.
Dr. Jules Hilbert: Well, that sounds like a comedy. Try to develop that.

Kay Eiffel: As Harold took a bite of Bavarian sugar cookie, he finally felt as if everything was going to be ok. Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies. And, fortunately, when there aren't any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin, or a kind and loving gesture, or subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort, not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs, an uneaten Danish, soft-spoken secrets, and Fender Stratocasters, and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause. They are here to save our lives. I know the idea seems strange, but I also know that it just so happens to be true. And, so it was, a wristwatch saved Harold Crick.

Dr. Mittag-Leffler: I'm afraid what you're describing is schizophrenia.
Harold Crick: No, no. It's not schizophrenia. It's just a voice in my head. I mean, the voice isn't telling me to do anything. It's telling me what I've already done... accurately, and with a better vocabulary.
Dr. Mittag-Leffler: Mr. Crick, you have a voice speaking to you.
Harold Crick: No, not TO me. ABOUT me. I'm somehow involved in some sort of story. Like I'm a character in my own life. But the problem is that the voice comes and goes...
Dr. Mittag-Leffler: Mr. Crick, I hate to sound like a broken record, but that's schizophrenia.

Harold Crick: Am I OK?
Doctor Mercator: [with facial indifference] Well, you're not dead. On the other hand, it looks like you cracked your head, you broke three bones in your leg and foot, you suffered four broken ribs, fractured your left arm, and severed an artery in your right arm, which should've killed you in a matter of minutes, but amazingly, a shard of metal from your watch obstructed the artery, keeping the blood loss low enough to keep you alive... which is pretty cool.
Harold Crick: Wow.

Kay Eiffel: [narrating Harold's thoughts on the guitars in the shop] Unfortunately, THIS guitar said, 'When I get back to Georgia, that woman gonna feel my pain.' THIS one said something along the lines of, 'Why yes, these pants ARE lycra.' THESE said, 'I'm very sensitive, very caring, and I have absolutely no idea how to play the guitar.'

Harold Crick: [Ana has just brought out a huge box totally stuffed with a mess of papers] What's this?
Ana Pascal: [Very pleased with herself] My tax files and receipts for the last three years.
Harold Crick: [Horrified] You keep your files like this?
Ana Pascal: No. Actually I'm quite fastidious. I put them in this box just to screw with you.

Harold Crick: This may sound like gibberish to you, but I think I'm in a tragedy.

Penny Escher: [They are in a hospital ward surround by lots of sick and injured people] What are we doing here? I don't even think we're supposed to *be* in here.
Kay Eiffel: You told me I needed visual stimulation.
Penny Escher: Yeah, I meant a museum or something.
Kay Eiffel: I don't *need* a museum. I need the infirm.
Penny Escher: [slightly under her breath] You *are* the infirm.

Ana Pascal: [Ana bursts into the hospital room that is housing Harold who is pretty much in a full body cast] My God! Harold!
Harold Crick: [as she's kissing him] I'm OK, it's alright.
Ana Pascal: Harold you're not fine! Look at you, you're severely injured!

Ana Pascal: [to cast-covered Harold] So what happened?
Harold Crick: I stepped in front of a bus.
Ana Pascal: What? Why?
Harold Crick: There was a boy I had to pull out of the way?
Ana Pascal: What?
Harold Crick: There was this boy, I had to...
Ana Pascal: You stepped in front of a bus to save a boy?
Harold Crick: I had to. I didn't have a choice.

Kay Eiffel: Because it's a book about a man who doesn't know he's about to die. And then dies. But if a man does know he's about to die and dies anyway. Dies- dies willingly, knowing that he could stop it, then- I mean, isn't that the type of man who you want to keep alive?

Harold Crick: Miss Pascal, what you're describing is anarchy. Are you an anarchist?
Ana Pascal: You mean, am I a member of...
Harold Crick: An anarchist group, yes.
Ana Pascal: Anarchists have a group?
Harold Crick: I believe so, sure.
Ana Pascal: They assemble?
Harold Crick: I don't know.
Ana Pascal: Wouldn't that completely defeat the purpose?

Kay Eiffel: I read this, in this fantastically depressing book, that when you jump from a building, it's rarely the impact that actually kills you.
Penny Escher: Well, I'm sure it doesn't help.

Penny Escher: I'm Penny, I'm Kay's assistant.
Harold Crick: Oh, I'm Harold. Her main character.

Penny Escher: I will gladly and quietly help you kill Harold Crick.
Kay Eiffel: And this coming from someone who's never thought about leaping off a building.

Ana Pascal: It was a really awful day. I know, I made sure of it. So pick up the cookie, dip it in the milk, and eat it.

Harold Crick: I may already be dead, just not typed.

Ana Pascal: Did you like the cookies?
Harold Crick: Yes. Thank you for forcing me to eat them.

Penny Escher: And I suppose you smoked all these cigarettes?
Kay Eiffel: No, they came pre-smoked.

Dr. Jules Hilbert: Hell Harold, you could just eat nothing but pancakes if you wanted.
Harold Crick: What is wrong with you? Hey, I don't want to eat nothing but pancakes, I want to live! I mean, who in their right mind in a choice between pancakes and living chooses pancakes?
Dr. Jules Hilbert: Harold, if you pause to think, you'd realize that that answer is inextricably contingent upon the type of life being led... and, of course, the quality of the pancakes.

Kay Eiffel: I went out... to buy cigarettes and I figured out how to kill Harold Crick.
Penny Escher: Buying cigarettes?
Kay Eiffel: As I was... when I came out of the store I... it came to me.
Penny Escher: How?
Kay Eiffel: Well, Penny, like anything worth writing, it came inexplicably and without method.

Harold Crick: SHUT UP!
Kay Eiffel: [voice only] Cursing the heavens in futility.
Harold Crick: [extremely annoyed] No I'm not! I'm cursing you, you stupid voice so SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE!

Kay Eiffel: I don't need a nicotine patch, Penny, I smoke cigarettes.

Dr. Jules Hilbert: Meeting an insurance agent the day your policy runs out is coincidence. Getting a letter from the Emperor saying he's visiting is plot. A wrecking ball... is something else entirely.