William Travis:
I have here pieces of paper, letters from politicians and generals, but no indication of when, or if help will arrive. Letters not worth the ink committed to them. I fear that no one is coming. Texas has been a second chance for me. I expect that might be true for many of you as well. It has been a chance not only for land and riches, but also to be a different man. I hope a better one. There have been many ideas brought for in the past few months of what Texas is, and what it should become. We are not all in agreement. But I'd like to ask each of you what it is you value so highly that you are willing to fight and possibly die for. We will call that Texas. The Mexican army hopes to lure us into attempting escape. Almost anything seems better than remaining in this place, penned up. If, however, we force the enemy to attack, I believe every one of you will prove himself worth ten in return. We will not only show the world what patriots are made of, but we will also deal a crippling blow to the army of Santa Anna. If anyone wishes to depart under the white flag of surrender, you may do so now. You have that right. But if you wish to stay here with me in the Alamo, we will sell our lives dearly.
Queen Victoria:
I do want to help them, whatever you say. And not just the laboring poor, but the hungry and the homeless, and... There are people who are lost, and whose business is it to see to their welfare?
Lord Melbourne:
Well, in my experience, ma'am, it's best to let these things develop naturally. If you interfere, you risk overturning the cart.
Queen Victoria:
Well, Prince Albert doesn't agree. He's made a study of the working man's condition, he's full to the brim with ideas for their improvement.
Lord Melbourne:
Is he indeed? How inspiring.
Betty Warren:
Dear Betty, I came to Wellesley because I wanted to make a difference. But to change for others is to lie to yourself. My teacher, Katherine Watson, lived by her own definition and would not compromise that, not even for Wellesley. I dedicate this, my last editorial, to an extraordinary woman, who lived by example and compelled us all to see the world through new eyes. By the time you read this, she'll be sailing to Europe, where I know she'll find new walls to break down, and new ideas to replace them with. [snapshot]
Betty Warren:
I've heard her called a quitter for leaving and aimless wanderer. But not all who wander are aimless, especially those who seek truth beyond tradition, beyond definition, beyond the image. I'll never forget you.
Cal McAffrey:
Mornin'...
Cameron Lynne:
So? Where are we, was he nobbing her or not?
Cal McAffrey:
Morning, Cam...
Cameron Lynne:
That's funny about you. Every time your friend runs for re-election or conducts a hearing, you drop his name to me until we give him some coverage... but he finally does something that actually might sell some newspapers, you render mute. Is he, he's in congress!
Cal McAffrey:
No, it does not... it's inconsistent.
Cameron Lynne:
Pfff, don't be an ass. What do you think? Those are the ideas for our facelift. I know, I know... it's crap! Our new owners have this odd idea that we ought to be turning a profit.
Cal McAffrey:
Yeah, well I hear our online site is doing great. I mean, not that I get to notice that sort of thing. I've been here what, uhh... fifteen years? I use a sixteen year old computer... she's been here fifteen minutes and she can launch a Russian satellite with the gear she's got.
Cameron Lynne:
Yeah, she told me you behaved like a pig.
Cal McAffrey:
That's too strong.
Cameron Lynne:
Well, pig-ish.
Cal McAffrey:
I showed her a little snout, uhuh.
Cameron Lynne:
Well, I happen to like miss Della Frye... and yes, I did send her down there to winkle something out of you. She's hungry, she's cheap and she churns up copy every hour.
Cal McAffrey:
Yeah, I now... I'm overfed, I'm too expensive and I take way too long.
Cameron Lynne:
Yes, you do.
Cal McAffrey:
I was Stephen Collins' room-mate in college... I don't live with him now.
Cameron Lynne:
Well, that's a shame isn't it.
Cal McAffrey:
Yeah... 'cause I could sell some newspapers.
[first lines]
Evey Hammond:
[voiceover] Remember, remember, the Fifth of November, the Gunpowder Treason and Plot. I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot... But what of the man? I know his name was Guy Fawkes and I know, in 1605, he attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament. But who was he really? What was he like? We are told to remember the idea, not the man, because a man can fail. He can be caught, he can be killed and forgotten, but 400 years later, an idea can still change the world. I've witnessed first hand the power of ideas, I've seen people kill in the name of them, and die defending them... but you cannot kiss an idea, cannot touch it, or hold it... ideas do not bleed, they do not feel pain, they do not love... And it is not an idea that I miss, it is a man... A man that made me remember the Fifth of November. A man that I will never forget.
Seaborn Tay, Cattle Rancher:
I don't know you, cowboy, and you don't know me, but if you got any ideas about bucking trouble, I'm afraid you're going to have to go it alone.
Conn Conagher:
You want to help me?
Seaborn Tay, Cattle Rancher:
Well, I'm up into my 70s, boy. And I got a bum kicker to boot. Iwas kind of hoping to just live out my days and not die out on some sandy slope with lead in my guts. If they get me out on that range, they'll kill me for sure. And then just take my cattle as they please... with nobody to stop 'em
Conn Conagher:
What if they come after you?
Seaborn Tay, Cattle Rancher:
If they come after me, I damn sure will fight.
Conn Conagher:
You better keep a rifle handy.
I feel as though, if I were to extend my hand just a little toward the pool where the ideas ferment, I could grab at the idea and pull it out of the pool and onto the floor where ideas must stand before the jury of the brain. There, it must present itself, still from the pool, and a bit shivery because new ideas are not given a towel to dry off with, towels being reserved for proven theories; new ideas are simply pulled and stood up, and asked to explain themselves - not a very pleasant thing really, which is why so many people go into the room where the pool is. The exercise is exhausting not to mention a bit difficult to watch, if you are at all a sympathetic creature. What was my idea, anyways?
...ideas are definitely unstable, they not only CAN be misused, they invite misuse--and the better the idea the more volatile it is. That's because only the better ideas turn into dogma, and it is this process whereby a fresh, stimulating, humanly helpful idea is changed into robot dogma that is deadly. In terms of hazardous vectors released, the transformation of ideas into dogma rivals the transformation of hydrogen into helium, uranium into lead, or innocence into corruption. And it is nearly as relentless.
The problem starts at the secondary level, not with the originator or developer of the idea but with the people who are attracted by it, who adopt it, who cling to it until their last nail breaks, and who invariably lack the overview, flexibility, imagination, and most importantly, sense of humor, to maintain it in the spirit in which it was hatched. Ideas are made by masters, dogma by disciples, and the Buddha is always killed on the road.
There is a particularly unattractive and discouragingly common affliction called tunnel vision, which, for all the misery it causes, ought to top the job list at the World Health Organization. Tunnel vision is a disease in which perception is restricted by ignorance and distorted by vested interest. Tunnel vision is caused by an optic fungus that multiplies when the brain is less energetic than the ego. It is complicated by exposure to politics. When a good idea is run through the filters and compressors of ordinary tunnel vision, it not only comes out reduced in scale and value but in its new dogmatic configuration produces effects the opposite of those for which it originally was intended.
That is how the loving ideas of Jesus Christ became the sinister cliches of Christianity. That is why virtually every revolution in history has failed: the oppressed, as soon as they seize power, turn into the oppressors, resorting to totalitarian tactics to
We live in a world in which people are censured, demoted, imprisoned, beheaded, simply because they have opened their mouths, flapped their lips, and vibrated some air. Yes, those vibrations can make us feel sad or stupid or alienated. Tough shit. That's the price of admission to the marketplace of ideas. Hateful, blasphemous, prejudiced, vulgar, rude, or ignorant remarks are the music of a free society, and the relentless patter of idiots is how we know we're in one. When all the words in our public conversation are fair, good, and true, it's time to make a run for the fence.
