Hat film, hat megközelítés

„All of life is a coming home. Salesmen, secretaries, coal
miners, beekeepers, sword swallowers, all of us. All the restless hearts of the
world, all trying to find a way home. It’s hard to describe what I felt like
then. Picture yourself walking for days in the driving snow; you don’t even
know you’re walking in circles. The heaviness of your legs in the drifts, your
shouts disappearing into the wind. How small you can feel, and how far away
home can be.

Home. The dictionary defines it as both
a place of origin and a goal or destination
. And the storm? The storm was
all in my mind. Or as the poet Dante put it: In the middle of the journey of my
life, I found myself in a dark wood, for I had lost the right path. Eventually
I would find the right path, but in the most unlikely place.”

„You’re not your job. You’re not how much money you have
in the bank. You’re not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your
wallet. You’re not your fucking khakis. You’re the all-singing, all-dancing
crap of the world

„Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a
family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact
disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol,
and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a
starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage.
Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics.
Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday morning. Choose sitting
on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing
fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all,
pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to
the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves. Choose your
future. Choose life… But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose
not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else
. And the reasons? There are no
reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?”

„Of course. The rabbit’s not like us. It has no… keen
look at something in the mirror, it has no history books, no photographs, no
knowledge of sorrow or regret… I mean, I’m sorry, Miss Pommeroy, don’t get me
wrong; y’know, I like rabbits and all. They’re cute and they’re horny. And if
you’re cute and you’re horny, then you’re probably happy, in that you don’t
know who you are and why you’re even alive
. And you just wanna’ have sex,
as many times as possible, before you die… I mean, I just don’t see the point
in crying over a dead rabbit! Y’know, who… who never even feared death to
begin with.”

Sucking the marrow out of life doesn’t mean choking
on the bone
. (…)We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We
read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human
race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these
are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance,
love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, “O me! O
life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the
faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O
life?” Answer. That you are here – that life exists, and identity; that
the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful
play *goes on* and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?”

„I’m somebody now, Harry. Everybody likes me. Soon,
millions of people will see me and they’ll all like me. I’ll tell them about
you, and your father, how good he was to us. Remember?
It’s a reason to get
up in the morning
. It’s a reason to lose weight, to fit in the red dress.
It’s a reason to smile. It makes tomorrow all right. What have I got Harry, hm?
Why should I even make the bed, or wash the dishes? I do them, but why should
I? I’m alone. Your father’s gone, you’re gone. I got no one to care for. What
have I got, Harry? I’m lonely. I’m old.”


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