Russell Franklin:
Hey, an AGA mask! Did some wreck diving in one of these off the coast of Spain. Tourist thing, you know. You like wreck diving?
Carter Blake:
It's okay.
Russell Franklin:
Come on, I bet you're really good at it!
Carter Blake:
We're on the water. Whole cat-and-mouse thing don't float. You're the man, right?
Russell Franklin:
Yeah. Yeah, I'm the man.
Carter Blake:
Well, the man's always got a file. What's it say?
Russell Franklin:
Two years, Leavenworth, smuggling.
Carter Blake:
How'd you make your money? You're the first rich guy in history who's squeaky-clean?
Russell Franklin:
You do understand my concern, right?
Carter Blake:
Look, I got a workable deal here. I don't make waves, I meet the terms of my parole. I'm not out to change the world like the doc, and I'm not out to wreck it either.
Dr. Schreber:
I call them the Strangers. They abducted us and brought us here. This city, everyone in it... is their experiment. They mix and match our memories as they see fit, trying to divine what makes us unique. One day, a man might be an inspector. The next, someone entirely different. When they want to study a murderer, for instance, they simply imprint one of their citizens with a new personality. Arrange a family for him, friends, an entire history... even a lost wallet. Then they observe the results. Will a man, given the history of a killer, continue in that vein? Or are we, in fact, more than the sum of our memories?
[first lines]
Al Bernstein:
Welcome back, everybody, to the 1997 World Series of Poker, where Stu "The Kid" Ungar is attempting to make one of the greatest comebacks in poker history, by winning the no-limit Texas Hold'em Championship a record third time.
Andrew N.S. Glazer:
And Al, the amazing thing about this is, that Stuey would be achieving that feat after sixteen years of personal struggle, where victories were really few and far between.
Al Bernstein:
And standing between Stuey and history is John Stremp, a local casino executive who's shown remarkable fortitude, actually, in making it to this point. And here it is, Stu is raising enough to put Stremp all in.
Andrew N.S. Glazer:
This could be it, Al. If Stremp wins, it'll change the tide of the tournament. If Stuey wins, he's got the championship again after sixteen long years.
Lt. Aldo Raine:
You know, where I'm from...
Col. Hans Landa:
Yeah, where is that, exactly?
Lt. Aldo Raine:
Maynardville, Tennessee. [pause]
Lt. Aldo Raine:
Up 'ere, when you engage in what the federal government calls "illegal activity" but what we call "a man tryin' to make a livin' for his family sellin' moonshine liquor," it behooves oneself to keep his wits. Long story short, we hear a story too good to be true... it ain't.
Col. Hans Landa:
Sitting in your chair, I would probably say the same thing. And 999 point 999 times out of a million, you would be correct. But in the pages of history, every once in a while, fate reaches out and extends its hand. [pause]
Col. Hans Landa:
What shall the history books read?
The biggest challenge facing the great teachers and communicators of history is not to teach history itself, nor even the lessons of history, but why history matters. How to ignite the first spark of the will o'the wisp, the Jack o'lantern, the ignis fatuus [foolish fire] beloved of poets, which lights up one source of history and then another, zigzagging across the marsh, connecting and linking and writing bright words across the dark face of the present. There's no phrase I can come up that will encapsulate in a winning sound-bite why history matters. We know that history matters, we know that it is thrilling, absorbing, fascinating, delightful and infuriating, that it is life. Yet I can't help wondering if it's a bit like being a Wagnerite; you just have to get used to the fact that some people are never going to listen.
Every period of human development has had its own particular type of human conflict---its own variety of problem that, apparently, could be settled only by force. And each time, frustratingly enough, force never really settled the problem. Instead, it persisted through a series of conflicts, then vanished of itself---what's the expression---ah, yes, 'not with a bang, but a whimper,' as the economic and social environment changed. And then, new problems, and a new series of wars.
Spirit:
The story that I want to tell you cannot be found in a book. They say that the history of the west was written from the saddle of a horse, but it's never been told from the heart of one. Not till now. I was born here, in this place that would come to be called the Old West. But, to my kind, the land was ageless. It had no beginning and no end, no boundary between earth and sky. Like the wind and the buffalo, we belonged here, we would always belong here. They say the mustang is the spirit of the West. Whether that west was won or lost in the end, you'll have to decide for yourself, but the story I want to tell you is true. I was there and I remember. I remember the sun, the sky, and the wind calling my name in a time when we ran free. I'll never forget the sound and the feeling of running together. The hoof beats were many, but our hearts were one."
Sen. Ralph Owen Brewster:
All right, let's get down to business. Let's talk turkey. My investigation... [He nearly bursts into laughter]
Sen. Ralph Owen Brewster:
My investigation has turned up a lot of dirt. It could be really embarassing if this stuff got out. I'd like to save you from that embarassment.
Howard Hughes:
That's very kind of you, Owen.
Sen. Ralph Owen Brewster:
My committee has the power to hold public hearings. I'd like to spare you from that.
Howard Hughes:
[smirks] Would you, now? [Brewster abruptly drops his silverware]
Sen. Ralph Owen Brewster:
Look, do you wanna go down in history as a war profiteer, Howard? Is that what you want?
Howard Hughes:
[gravely] What do you want, Owen?
Sen. Ralph Owen Brewster:
You agree to support my C.A.B. bill, and I won't hold public hearings.
Howard Hughes:
I can't do that, Owen. Can't do that. The C.A.B. bill would kill TWA.
Sen. Ralph Owen Brewster:
Sell T.W.A. to Pan Am. You'll get a good price. You'll get a fair price, I'm telling you.
Howard Hughes:
And then...? Then you won't go public?
Sen. Ralph Owen Brewster:
Right. That's right. The investigation's closed. Nobody knows a thing. It's better for everybody. [pause]
Howard Hughes:
You know, Owen, I'm still wondering one thing. The picture of the llama you got last year. Where'd you sail from?
Sen. Ralph Owen Brewster:
[disinterested] We didn't sail. We flew.
Howard Hughes:
You flew?
Sen. Ralph Owen Brewster:
Yeah.
Howard Hughes:
Ah.
Sen. Ralph Owen Brewster:
[Brewster stops chewing abruptly, realizing what Howard's implying]
Howard Hughes:
[leans in] Are you sure you want to do this, Owen? You want to go to war with me?
Sen. Ralph Owen Brewster:
It isn't me, Howard. It's the United States government. We just beat Germany and Japan. Who the hell are you?
[during their peyote trip in the desert]
Jim Morrison:
Close your eyes. We'll see the snake; see the serpent appear. His head is ten feet long and five feet wide. He has one red eye and one green eye. He's seven miles long. Deadly. I see all the history of the world on his scales, all people, all actions. We're all just little pictures on his scales. God, he's big, he's moving, devouring consciousness, digesting power. Monster of energy. It's a monster. We're going to kiss the snake on the tongue. Kiss the serpent. But if it senses fear, it'll eat us instantly. But if we kiss it without fear, it'll take us through the garden, through the gate, to the other side. Ride the snake... until the end of time.
John:
I think I'm fucked up, man. I'm not thinking right. [Jim tilts his head back and laughs lazily]
John:
Look at your eyes, man... your death.
[first lines]
Narrator:
I shall tell you of William Wallace. Historians from England will say I am a liar, but history is written by those who have hanged heroes. The king of Scotland had died without a son, and the king of England, a cruel pagan known as Edward the Longshanks, claimed the throne of Scotland for himself. Scotland's nobles fought him, and fought each other, over the crown. So Longshanks invited them to talks of truce - no weapons, one page only. Among the farmers of that shire was Malcolm Wallace, a commoner with his own lands; he had two sons, John and William.
Malcolm Wallace:
I told ye to stay.
Young William:
Well, I finished my work. Where're we goin'?
Malcolm Wallace:
McAndrews'. He was supposed to visit when the gatherin' was over.
Young William:
Can I come?
Malcolm Wallace:
No! Go home, boy.
Young William:
But I want to go.
Malcolm Wallace:
Go home, William, or you'll feel the back o' my hand.
Too much faith is the worst ally. When you believe in something literally, through your faith you'll turn it into something absurd. One who is a genuine adherent, if you like, of some political outlook, never takes its sophistries seriously, but only its practical aims, which are concealed beneath these sophistries. Political rhetoric and sophistries do not exist, after all, in order that they be believed; rather, they have to serve as a common and agreed upon alibi. Foolish people who take them in earnest sooner or later discover inconsistencies in them, begin to protest, and finish finally and infamously as heretics and apostates. No, too much faith never brings anything good...
