NORMAN: Change your mind?

Arbogast does not reply. Norman becomes apprehensive, starts
to Arbogast, forcing himself to remain calm and cheerful.

  NORMAN
 I guess I've got one of those faces
 you can't help believing.

I was the fool because I thought.

I thought the world
Turns out the world thought me.
It's all the other way round
We're upside down.

Let the fluence sat it down.
There's an upside of down.

The moon is rolling round the world.

In the palm of your hand.

 

You been coolin'.

 

Vincent Hanna:

 I gotta hold on to my angst. I preserve it because I need it. It keeps me sharp, on the edge, where I gotta be.

Yeah I'm shining.

Listen all of y'all it's a sabotage.

Billy Costigan: Frank,

how many of these guys have been with you long enough to be disgruntled, huh? Think about it. You don't pay much, you know. It's almost a fuckin' feudal enterprise. The question is, and this is the only question, who thinks that they can do what you do better than you?
Frank Costello: The only one that can do what I do is me. Lot of people had to die for me to be me. You wanna be me?
Billy Costigan: I probably could be you, yeah. Yeah, I know that much. But I don't wanna be you, Frank. I don't wanna be you
Frank Costello: Heavy lies the crown... sort of thing.

And then flashlights and explosions.

 

Let's grow old together.

26-27.

Historias del Arenero.

A: A los veintiseis sos joven porque estás más cerca de los veinticinco que de los treinta.
     A los veintisiete sos viejo porque estás más cerca de los treinta que de los veinte.

B: ¿De carne o de pollo?

Narrator: There he lies.

God rest his soul, and his rudeness. A devouring public can now share the remains of his sickness, and his phone numbers. There he lay: poet, prophet, outlaw, fake, star of electricity. Nailed by a peeping tom, who would soon discover...
Jude: A poem is like a naked person...
Narrator: - even the ghost was more than one person.
Arthur: ...but a song is something that walks by itself.

It justs sex and violence melody and silence.

 

Nothing is wrong.

 

Turkish: [narrating].

It turned out that the sweet-talking, tattoo-sporting pikey was a gypsy bare-knuckle boxing champion. Which makes him harder than a coffin nail.Right now, that's the last thing on Tommy's mind. If Gorgeous doesn't wake up in the next few minutes, Tommy knows he'll be buried with him. Why would the gypsies go through the trouble of explaining why a man died in their campsite when they can bury the pair of them and just move camp? It's not like they got social security numbers, is it? Tommy - the tit - is praying. And if he isn't, he fucking should be.

Ambition makes you look pretty ugly.

Let's have a game on the Teddy Picker.

 

INT. KOROVA MILKBAR. NIGHT.

Tables, chairs made of nude fibreglass figures.

Hypnotic atmosphere.

Alex, Pete, Georgie and Dim, teenagers stoned on their milk-plus, their feet resting on faces, crotches, lips of the sculptured furniture.

ALEX (V.O.)

There was me, that is Alex, and my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie and Dim and we sat in the Korova milkbar trying to make up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening.

The room is on fire as she's fixing her hair.

Well come on, well come on.

El Sargento Argento.

Historias del Arenero.

            Tardecita, merienda, leche y galletitas.

Juanjo toma una galletita oreo y la moja en la leche chocolatada. Martina lo imita. A Martina le gusta de Juanjo, él lo sabe, pero se hace el distraído porque a él le gustan los superhéroes.

La pregonera de Marcelo T.

Historias del Arenero.

– ¿Cuántos son? – preguntó el keeper.

– Tres. – respondió Claudia.

– Pasen. – les dijo el musculoso de cuarenti pico y las dejó pasar. Tenía su estilo, no era tosco como la mayoría. Escondía sus atributos físicos bajo su campera de cuero rockera. Como Liam Neeson en Taken. Gran astuto.

And I am all for it.

Take a litle walk to the edge of town.

Go across the tracks.
Past the square, past the bridge,
past the mills, past the stacks.

On a gathering storm comes
a tall handsome man,
In a dusty black coat with
a Red Right Hand.

I'm going to Wichita.

My best friend's a butcher, he has sixteen knives.

My best friend's from Poland and, um, he has a beard.

Oh look, it stopped snowing!

As your bony fingers close around me.

Nos vemos en Disney.

Historias del Arenero.

– ¿Acá les parece?

            Decidimos sentarnos en el escalón de un negocio de cortinas. Los chicos nos sentamos sobre el sócalo contra la persiana negra cuadriculada que hizo ruido al apoyarnos.  Las chicas sentadas trasero en baldosa sin importarle las suciedad, muy osadas. Una linda rondita de tres contra tres.

So keep it coming.

I have to celebrate you baby!

Yeah!