It has always seemed to me that so long as you produce your dramatic effect, accuracy of detail matters little. I have never striven for it and I have made some bad mistakes in consequence. What matter if I hold my readers?
Chip Douglas: You were never there for me were you mother? You expected Mike and Carol Brady to raise me! I'm the bastard son of Claire Huxtable! I am a Lost Cunningham! I learned the facts of life from watching The Facts of Life! Oh God!
[Freck turns on the radio] Freck Suicide Narrator: Charles Freck, becoming progressively more and more depressed by what was happening around him, decided, finally, to off himself. There was no problem in the circles where he hung out in putting an end to yourself. You just bought a large quantity of downers and took them with some cheap wine. The planning part had to do with the artifacts he wanted found on him by later archeologists. He had spent several days deciding, much longer than he had spent deciding to kill himself. He would be found lying on his back, on his bed, with a copy of Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead and an unfinished letter to Exxon, protesting the cancellation of his gas credit card. That way, he would indite the system, and achieve something by his death, over and above what the death itself achieved. At the last moment, he changed his mind on a decisive issue and decided to drink the pills with a connoisseur wine, instead of Ripple or Thunderbird. So he set off on one last drive, over to Tiny's Liquors, which specialized in fine wines, and bought a bottle of 2001 Azalea Springs Merlot, which set him back almost seventy dollars. Back home again, he uncorked the wine, let it breathe, drank a few glasses of it, tried to think of something meaningful but could not, and then, with a glass of Merlot, gulped down all the pills at once. However, he had been burned. Instead of quietly suffocating, Charles Freck began to hallucinate. The next thing he knew, a creature from between dimensions was standing beside his bed, looking down at him disapprovingly. Freck: You gonna read me my sins? [Creature nods] Freck: Eh, it's gonna take a hundred thousand hours. Creature: Your sins will be read to you ceaselessly, in shifts, throughout eternity. The list will never end. Creature: [starts reading] "The Sins of Freck" Freck Suicide Narrator: Charles Freck wished he could take back the last half hour of his life. Creature: [Creature continues to read] "... theft of fingernail clippers...” "... you did knowingly and with malice...” "... punched your baby sister, Evelyn...” "... December, theft of Christmas presents...” "... one billion lies...” Freck Suicide Narrator: One thousand years later, they had reached the sixth grade, the year he had discovered masturbation. Creature: [Creature continues to read] "... November fourteenth, Percodan... Vicodin... Cocaine...” Freck Suicide Narrator: Charles Freck thought, "At least I got a good wine."
Tom Wingo: Now girls, have I ever told you the facts of life? Jennifer Wingo: Oh, not this again. Tom Wingo: Stay away from boys 'cause they are all disgusting, self-indulgent beasts that pee on bushes and pick their noses.
It's strange that Rakesh Roshan thinks I look older than Hrithik. In fact, he's approached me for all his home productions
Criswell: [First lines] Greetings, my friends! You are interested in the unknown. The mysterious. The unexplainable. That is why you are here. And now, for the first time, we are bringing you the full story of what happened. We are giving you all the evidence based only on the secret testimony of the miserable souls who survived this terrifying ordeal. The incidents, faces. My friends, we cannot keep this a secret any longer. Can your heart stand the shocking facts of the true story of Edward D. Wood Jr.?
Franz Kafka: So, that's who the enemy is. Policemen and file clerks. Law and order, you might say. Gabriela: You think what we're doing is wrong? What would you suggest, then? Franz Kafka: Did any of you actually go up to the castle with Edward? You sit around twisting the facts to suit your inbred theories. In my experience the truth is not... that convenient.
Now, what I want is, Facts. Teach these boys and girls nothing but Facts. Facts alone are wanted in life. Plant nothing else, and root out everything else. You can only form the minds of reasoning animals upon Facts; nothing else will ever be of service to them.
Thomas Devoe: Doctor, you can run your charts and your theories all you want. In the field, this is how it works: the good guys, that's us, we chase the bad guys. And they don't wear black hats. They are, however, all alike: they demand power, and respect, and they're willing to pay top dollar to get it. And that is our highly motivated buyer. Julia Kelly: What about other motivations? Thomas Devoe: Not important to me. Julia Kelly: Whether it's important to you or not, there are people out there who don't care about money, who don't give a damn about respect. People who believe the killing of innocent men and women is justified. For them it is about rage, frustration, hatred... they feel pain and they're determined to share it with the world. Thomas Devoe: Okay, that does me no good. Now let's deal with the facts at hand. 23 hours ago, General Alexander Kodoroff stole ten nuclear warheads. Julia Kelly: He's just a delivery boy. I'm not afraid of the man who wants ten nuclear weapons, Colonel. I'm terrified of the man who only wants one.
Though sympathy alone can't alter facts, it can help to make them more bearable.
Col. Hans Landa: [to Perrier LaPardite] I love rumors! Facts can be so misleading, where rumors, true or false, are often revealing.
Louie: Where are you going to keep all this treasure, Uncle Scrooge? Scrooge McDuck: I won't keep it all, Louie. Most of these artifacts will go to museums. Louie: That doesn't sound like Uncle Scrooge. Scrooge McDuck: That way, I can enjoy a healthy tax break! Huey: That does!
Appearances are not reality; but they often can be a convincing alternative to it. You can control appearances most of the time, but facts are what they are. When the facts are too sharp, you can craft a cheerful version of the situation and cover the facts the way that you can covered a battered old four-slice toaster with a knitted cozy featuring images of kittens.
Caryl Kellogg: What's with the balloons? It's not one of my kids' birthday is it? Barb Ballantine: No, time to roll out the cul-de-sac welcome wagon. We have new neighbors moving into the old Wagner house. Marilyn Larson: Oh, man, the Wagners! Now that was a great divorce. Caryl Kellogg: You knew the end was near when he and his secretary started taking Lamaze classes together. Marilyn Larson: Well, his wife was no angel herself. Remember every Friday the pool man would come over exactly at 3:00? Caryl Kellogg: that's right! In those tight, tight shorts on that even tighter butt? What ever happened to him? Marilyn Larson: He hurt his back giving her horsey rides in the deep end. Marilyn Larson: See, you're lucky. Your kitchen window faces north. Me, all I ever get to see is old man Kelly hiding whiskey bottles in his koi pond. Barb Ballantine: Ladies, ladies, must you diminish yourselves with idle gossip? Marilyn Larson: Sure! Caryl Kellogg: It's fun. Barb Ballantine: It's an invasion of privacy. And so often the facts are wrong. For instance, Mr. Kelly isn't hiding whiskey bottles, it's vodka. And they're not koi, they're goldfish. It's a common mistake. And as for the Wagners, he wasn't having an affair with his secretary, it was his receptionist. And as far as Mrs. Wagner and the pool man, yes, she was doing him.
Cyrus Grissom: It's not difficult to surmise how Nathan here feels about killing guards; and my own proclivities are, uh, well-known and, uh, often-lamented facts of penal lore.
Pastor Jack Master: Facts are the propaganda of Satan.
Look at that moon. Potato weather for sure.
If the facts don't fit the theory, change the facts.
A point of view can be a dangerous luxury when substituted for insight and understanding.
You can spend your whole life building a wall of facts between you and anything real.
Grown-up people find it difficult to believe really wonderful things, unless they have what they call proof. But children will believe almost anything, and grown-ups know this. That is why they tell you that the earth is round like an orange, when you can see perfectly well that it is flat and lumpy; and why they say that the earth goes round the sun, when you can see for yourself any day that the sun gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night like a good sun as it is, and the earth knows its place, and lies as still as a mouse. Yet I daresay you believe all that about the earth and the sun, and if so you will find it quite easy to believe that before Anthea and Cyril and the others had been a week in the country they had found a fairy.
The truth is more important than the facts.
I'm more interested in arousing enthusiasm in kids than in teaching the facts. The facts may change, but that enthusiasm for exploring the world will remain with them the rest of their lives.
Facts are stubborn things; and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictates of our passion, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence.
Science is built up of facts, as a house is built of stones; but an accumulation of facts is no more a science than a heap of stones is a house.
The facts are always less than what really happened.
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