Любимые цитаты из кинофильмов и книг на английском
# Lem 8 июля 2010, 09:29
Training is everything. Cauliflower is nothing but cabbage with a college education.
# Nothing7 14 июля 2010, 11:18
JD "there has been some odd moments and when ever i think about it the fray are playing" then they play how to save a life and he's like "not that fray song this fray song" she issong is playing.
# pavel 1 ноября 2010, 13:13
For the last time, I heard a voice
that wasn't my mother's,
whispering, "Good morning, Columbus."
It didn't bother me. Then the voice
became lower and turned into a wind
that sent the peaceful smell
of cheap cologne.
And I realized, like Columbus, I had
to live in a world of cheap cologne,
and I wasn't sure any discovery
in America was possible anymore.
# Danya 3 декабря 2010, 11:14
don't let this topic die - my own statement)
# Екатерина 4 декабря 2010, 20:20
Мне запомнился отрывок из книги "Доктор Джекилл и мистер Хайд":
"If houses are faces, the house you are standing in front of is the stony face of a stern teacher who knows that the children are up to something but does not know exactly what."
# Danya 11 декабря 2010, 20:45
"A moveable feast" by E. Hemingway, Ch. 17 (On F. Scott Fitzgerald)
"His talent was as natural as the pattern that was made by the dust on a butterfly's wings. At one time he understood it no more than the butterfly did and he did not know when it was brushed or marred. Later he became conscious of his damaged wings and of their construction and he learned to think and could not fly any more because the love of flight was gone and he could only remember when it had been effortless."
# Danya 11 декабря 2010, 20:51
"Праздник, который всегда с тобой" Э. Хэмингуэй
"Его талант был таким же естественным, как узор из пыльцы на крыльях бабочки. Одно время он понимал это не больше, чем бабочка, и не заметил, как узор стерся и поблек. Позднее он понял, что крылья его повреждены, и понял, как они устроены, и научится думать, но летать больше не мог, потому что любовь к полетам исчезла, а в памяти осталось только, как легко ему леталось когда-то..."
# Danya 11 декабря 2010, 20:52
# Alexey Tolstoy 17 июля 2011, 02:51
No fate but what we make (Нет судьбы, кроме той, что мы творим сами). Sarah Connor. "Terminator-2: Judgment Day".
- Do not try and bend the spoon! That's impossible. Instead only try to realize the truth!
- What truth?
- There is no spoon.
- There is no spoon?
- Then you'll see that it's not the spoon that bends. It is only yourself!
- Не пытайся согнуть ложку. Это невозможно. Вместо этого попытайся понять истину.
- Какую истину?
- Ложки нет.
- Ложки нет?
- Тогда ты поймёшь, что это не ложка гнётся, а ты сам. (Хотя я бы перевёл "...а всё дело в тебе")
A boy and Neo. "The Matrix".
# Val 18 июля 2011, 16:29
Tim Burton. My favourite!
Vincent Malloy is seven years old
He’s always polite and does what he’s told
For a boy his age, he’s considerate and nice
But he wants to be just like Vincent Price
He doesn’t mind living with his sister, dog and cats
Though he’d rather share a home with spiders and bats
There he could reflect on the horrors he’s invented
And wander dark hallways, alone and tormented
Vincent is nice when his aunt comes to see him
But imagines dipping her in wax for his wax museum
He likes to experiment on his dog Abercrombie
In the hopes of creating a horrible zombie
So he and his horrible zombie dog
Could go searching for victims in the London fog
His thoughts, though, aren’t only of ghoulish crimes
He likes to paint and read to pass some of the times
While other kids read books like Go, Jane, Go!
Vincent’s favourite author is Edgar Allen Poe
One night, while reading a gruesome tale
He read a passage that made him turn pale
Such horrible news he could not survive
For his beautiful wife had been buried alive!
He dug out her grave to make sure she was dead
Unaware that her grave was his mother’s flower bed
His mother sent Vincent off to his room
He knew he’d been banished to the tower of doom
Where he was sentenced to spend the rest of his life
Alone with the portrait of his beautiful wife
While alone and insane encased in his tomb
Vincent’s mother burst suddenly into the room
She said: “If you want to, you can go out and play
It’s sunny outside, and a beautiful day”
Vincent tried to talk, but he just couldn’t speak
The years of isolation had made him quite weak
So he took out some paper and scrawled with a pen:
“I am possessed by this house, and can never leave it again”
His mother said: “You’re not possessed, and you’re not almost dead
These games that you play are all in your head
You’re not Vincent Price, you’re Vincent Malloy
You’re not tormented or insane, you’re just a young boy
You’re seven years old and you are my son
I want you to get outside and have some real fun.”
Her anger now spent, she walked out through the hall
And while Vincent backed slowly against the wall
The room started to swell, to shiver and creak
His horrid insanity had reached its peak
He saw Abercrombie, his zombie slave
And heard his wife call from beyond the grave
She spoke from her coffin and made ghoulish demands
While, through cracking walls, reached skeleton hands
Every horror in his life that had crept through his dreams
Swept his mad laughter to terrified screams!
To escape the madness, he reached for the door
But fell limp and lifeless down on the floor
His voice was soft and very slow
As he quoted The Raven from Edgar Allen Poe:
“and my soul from out that shadow
that lies floating on the floor
shall be lifted?