Quotation Association

[kodiakthejuggler]

LONG LIVE KING RICHARD!!

~ Lord Locksley
Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves

[Plastic Self-Cleaning Duck]

"Because, unlike some other Robin Hoods, I can speak with an English accent.."

- Cary Elwes, Robin Hood: Men In Tights

[Johnny Unusual]

    Marian: Why, you speak treason!
    Robin: Fluently.

-The Adventures of Robin Hood

[Tripe]

You always were a cunning linguist, James.
- Miss Moneypenny Tomorrow Never Dies

[Plastic Self-Cleaning Duck]

What are words for when no one listens anymore?

- "Words", Missing Persons

[Johnny Unusual]

Delirium: Um, what's the name of the word for things not being the same always? You know, I'm sure there is one. Isn't there? There must be a word for it... the thing that lets you know time is happening. Is there a word?
Morpheus: Change.
Delirium: Oh.  I was afraid of that.

- Sandman #43

[a pretty girl is like]

How these curiosities would be quite forgott, did not such idle fellowes as I am putt them down. - John Aubrey

[kodiakthejuggler]

Not idly do the leaves of the Lorien fall...

~ Aragorn
The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers

[Tripe]

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

- W.B. Yeats The Second Coming

[wurwolf]

Poor Johansen's handwriting almost gave out when he wrote of this. Of the six men who never reached the ship, he thinks two perished of pure fright in that accursed instant. The Thing cannot be described - there is no language for such abysms of shrieking and immemorial lunacy, such eldritch contradictions of all matter, force, and cosmic order. A mountain walked or stumbled. God! What wonder that across the earth a great architect went mad, and poor Wilcox raved with fever in that telepathic instant? The Thing of the idols, the green, sticky spawn of the stars, had awaked to claim his own. The stars were right again, and what an age-old cult had failed to do by design, a band of innocent sailors had done by accident. After vigintillions of years great Cthulhu was loose again, and ravening for delight.

H. P. Lovecraft, The Call of Cthulhu

[Pak-Man]

Winston: Cthulhu -- I've heard of him.  He's bad, right?
Egon: He makes Gozer look like Little Mary Sunshine. - The Real Ghostbusters

[Tripe]

damnit I was going to use that one



Winston Zeddemore: Hey Ray. Do you remember something in the bible about the last days when the dead would rise from the grave?
Dr Ray Stantz: I remember Revelations 7:12..."And I looked, and he opened the sixth seal, and behold, there was a great earthquake. And the sun became as black as sack cloth, and the moon became as blood."
Winston Zeddemore: "And the seas boiled and the skies fell."
Dr Ray Stantz: Judgement day.
Winston Zeddemore: Judgement day.
Dr Ray Stantz: Every ancient religion has its own myth about the end of the world.
Winston Zeddemore: Myth? Ray, has it ever occurred to you that maybe the reason we've been so busy lately is 'cause the dead HAVE been rising from the grave?
Dr Ray Stantz: [Pause ] How 'bout a little music?
Winston Zeddemore: Yeah.

[Plastic Self-Cleaning Duck]

Junkies down in Brooklyn are going crazy
They're laughing just like hungry dogs in the street
Policemen are hiding behind the skirts of little girls
Their eyes have turned the color of frozen meat

No, no no no, no no no no no no no no,
Joan Crawford has risen from the grave
Joan Crawford has risen from the grave

Catholic schoolgirls have thrown away their mascara
They chain themselves to the axles of big Mack trucks
The sky is filled with hurt and shivering angels
The fat lady lives! Children, start your trucks!

No, no no no, no no no no no no no no,
Joan Crawford has risen from the grave
Joan Crawford has risen from the grave

(Christina... Mother's home!
No, no...
Christina...
No, no - no, no...
Come to Mother...
No, no - no, no, no no no no no no
Christina...)

Joan Crawford has risen from the grave

   - Blue Oyster Cult

[wurwolf]

It's gonna be too hot to breathe today
And everybody's out here on the streets
Somebody's opened up the fire hydrant
Cold water rushing out in sheets
Some kid in a Marcus Allen jersey
Asks me for a cigarette
Companionship is where you find it
So I take what I can get

Hubcaps on the cars like funhouse mirrors
Stick to the shadows when I can
Lovecraft in Brooklyn

When the sun goes down the armies of the voiceless
Several hundred thousand strong
Come out without their bandages
Their voices raised in song
When the streetlights sputter out
They make this awful sizzling sound
I cast my gaze toward the pavement
Too many bloodstains on the ground

Rhode Island drops into the ocean
No place to call home anymore
Lovecraft in Brooklyn

Head outside most every day
to try to keep the wolves away
Imagine nice things I might say
If company should come

Woke up afraid of my own shadow
Like, genuinely afraid
Headed for the pawn shop
To buy myself a switchblade
Someday something's coming
From way out beyond the stars
To kill us while we stand here
It'll store our brains in mason jars

And then a girl behind the counter
She asks me how I feel today
I feel like Lovecraft in Brooklyn

- "Lovecraft in Brooklyn", the Mountain Goats

[Johnny Unusual]

The poetical tendency of the present and of the preceding century has been divided in a manner singularly curious. One loud and conspicuous faction of bards, giving way to the corrupt influences of a decaying general culture, seems to have abandoned all the properties of versification and reason in its mad scramble after sensational novelty; whilst the other and quieter school constituting a more logical evolution from the poesy of the Georgian period, demands an accuracy of rhyme and metre unknown even to the polished artists of the age of Pope.

-HP Lovecraft, the Allowable Rhyme