Watch 1000 movies

Nicholas: I don’t care about the money. I’m pulling back the curtain. I want to meet the wizard.

[On card] Like my father before me, I choose eternal sleep.

I am finally up to date! I watched this movie yesterday. No more having to post ten films daily! I adore films; they’re my go-to form of escapism.

Aslan: Things never happen the same way twice, dear one.

Gen. Yevgraf Zhivago: I told myself it was beneath my dignity for arresting a man for pilfering firewood. But nothing ordered by the party is beneath the dignity of any man, and the party was right: one man desperate for a bit of fuel is pathetic; five million people desperate for a bit of fuel will destroy a city. That was the first time I ever saw by brother, but I knew him and I knew I would disobey the party. Perhaps it was the tie of blood between us, but I doubt it. We were only half-tied anyway. Indeed as a policeman I would say, get hold of a man’s brother and you’re halfway home. Nor was it admiration for a better man than me. I did admire him, but I didn’t think he was the better man. Besides, I’ve executed better men than me with a small pistol.

Zhivago: You lay life on a table and cut out all the tumors of injustice. Marvelous.

Pasha: I used to admire your poetry.

Zhivago: Thank you.

Pasha: I shouldn’t admire it now. I should find it absurdly personal. Don’t you agree? Feelings, insights, affections… it’s suddenly trivial now. You don’t agree; you’re wrong. The personal life is dead in Russia. History has killed it. I can see why you might hate me.

Zhivago: I hate everything you say, but not enough to kill you for it.

Billy: [delivering a eulogy at Jack’s wake] Jack is … Jack is all right now. You all know … we are only passing by. We walk over these stones a few times. Our boats … sail for a little while on the waves and then they have to sink. Jack knew that, better than anyone.

Jack Lengyel: For those of you who may not know, this is the final resting place for six members of the 1970 Thundering Herd. The plane crash that took their lives was so severe, so absolute, that their bodies were unable to be identified. So they were buried here. Together. Six players. Six teammates. Six Sons of Marshall. This is our past, gentlemen. This is where we have been. This is how we got here. This is who we are. Today, I want to talk about our opponent this afternoon. They’re bigger, faster, stronger, more experienced and on paper, they’re just better. And they know it too. But I want to tell you something that they don’t know. They don’t know your heart. I do. I’ve seen it. You have shown it to me. You have shown this coaching staff, your teammates. You have shown yourselves just exactly who you are in here.

Jack Lengyel: When you take that field today, you’ve got to lay that heart on the line, men. From the souls of your feet, with every ounce of blood you’ve got in your body, lay it on the line until the final whistle blows. And if you do that, if you do that, we cannot lose. We may be behind on the scoreboard at the end of the game but if you play like that we cannot be defeated. Now we came here today to remember six young men and sixty-nine others who will not be on the field with you today, but they will be watching. You can bet your ass that they’ll be gritting their teeth with every snap of that football. You understand me? How you play today, from this moment on is how you will be remembered. This is your opportunity to rise from these ashes and grab glory. We are…

Young Thundering Herd: Marshall!

Fogell: [grinning] ... I am McLovin!

Spock: Once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

Spock: Live long, and Prosper.

Peter Klaven: Slapping the bass!

Dennis: Excuse me, can I just stop you there.

Whit: Yes…?

Dennis: Oh, I don’t have anything to say… I just wanted to stop you there.

Thomas Fowler: [voiceover] I can’t say what made me fall in love with Vietnam – that a woman’s voice can drug you; that everything is so intense. The colors, the taste, even the rain. Nothing like the filthy rain in London. They say whatever you’re looking for, you will find here. They say you come to Vietnam and you understand a lot in a few minutes, but the rest has got to be lived. The smell: that’s the first thing that hits you, promising everything in exchange for your soul. And the heat. Your shirt is straightaway a rag. You can hardly remember your name, or what you came to escape from. But at night, there’s a breeze. The river is beautiful. You could be forgiven for thinking there was no war; that the gunshots were fireworks; that only pleasure matters. A pipe of opium, or the touch of a girl who might tell you she loves you. And then, something happens, as you knew it would. And nothing can ever be the same again.