Revenge: it's a dream of flames fueled by scorched remains that are lit to a torch and brought back upon the one who burned you.
The last of the cherry blossom. On the tree, itturns ever more perfect. And when it__ perfect, it falls. And then of course once it hits theground it gets all mushed up. So it__ only absolutely perfect when it__ falling through the air,this way and that, for the briefest time!.!.!.
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The last of the cherry blossom. On the tree, itturns ever more perfect. And when it__ perfect, it falls. And then of course once it hits theground it gets all mushed up. So it__ only absolutely perfect when it__ falling through the air,this way and that, for the briefest time!.!.!.
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When life is a horror....Don't look like a ghost!
In March of 1915, all three of Lord and Lady Chetwynd-Pitt's sons'd been gassed, blown up or machine-gunned in the very same week at the battle of Neuve-Chapelle. All three. Imagine that: On Monday, you've got three sons, by Friday you've got none. Lady Albertina had just, y'know, caved in. Physically, mentally, spiritually, brutally.
Bill suited the action to the word, getting up and leaning over the handlebars and pumping the pedals at a lunatic rate. Looking at Bill's back, which was amazingly broad for a boy of eleven-going-on-twelve, watching it work under the duffel coat, the shoulders slanting first one way and then the other as he shifted his weight from one pedal to the other, Richie suddenly became sure that they were invulnerable...they would live forever and ever.
This isn__ how things were supposed to happen. I was supposed to be me. Not this.
I put it to the great man [Hitchcock], the key to fictitious terror is partition or containment: so long as the Bates Motel is sealed off from our world, we want to peer in, like at a scorpion enclosure. But a film that shows the world is a Bates Motel, well, that's... the stuff of Buchloe, dystopia, depression. We'll dip our toes in a predatory, amoral, godless unive3rse, but only our toes.