There aren't any good, brave causes left. If the big bang does come, and we all get killed off, it won't be in aid of the old-fash...ioned grand design. It'll just be for the Brave New-nothing-very-much-thank-you. About as pointless and inglorious as stepping in front of a bus. No, there's nothing left for it, me boy, but to let yourself be butchered by the women.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
If that's how it all started, then we might as well face the fact that what's left out there is a great deal of shrapnel and a who...le bunch of cinders (one of which is, fortunately, still hot enough and close enough to be good for tanning).LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
What did it matter where you lay once you were dead? In a dirty sump or in a marble tower on top of a high hill? You were dead, yo...u were sleeping the big sleep, you were not bothered by things like that. Oil and water were the same as wind and air to you.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The words "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang," which I saw on an Italian movie poster, are perhaps the briefest statement imaginable of the basi...c appeal of movies. This appeal is what attracts us, and ultimately what makes us despair when we begin to understand how seldom movies are more than this.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Funny ain't it. Here I am worrying about a woman. Men don't worry much about women when they're around. But when it gets way off f...rom home like we are now, and where he knows he's going a lot further away ... I mean that's when a woman gets workin' in your mind. You reckon you're a fool for not noticin' before how, how big a part of things they be. There ain't nothin' like seein' a woman's face.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Zeb Calloway: This child's seen a heap of Injuns and most of this country. She's big and wild, colder than hell ... the Tetons sta...ndin' higher than the clouds. By beaver, there's nothin' prettier than the upper Missouri. She's wild and pretty like a virgin woman. But the prettiest part of it all belongs to her people--Blackfeet--proud Injuns. Ain't gonna let no white men spy on their country. Only thing they're feared of is a white man's sickness. Jim Deakins: What's that? Zeb: Grabs. White men don't see nothin' pretty lest they wants to grab it. The more they grab, the more they wanna grab. It's like a fever, and they can't get cured. The only thing for them to do is keep on grabbin' until everything belongs to white men and then start grabbin' from each other. Can't reckon Injuns got no reason to love nothin' white. By beaver, this child'd rather be in that Black Feet country than anywheres else.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »