Ayoade On Top Quotes

Cinema helps us to remember that although we all have the right to shine, some of us must shine in the background, out of focus, and not too brightly.

Because to be moved by something made by someone who has done something bad would mean that a bad person possesses the capacity to connect to us; that they haven’t, somehow, forfeited their humanity.

One man's Michelangelo is another man's Milli Vanilli.

Vaginal eggs are no more real to me than penis toast or anal pancakes.

When my parents weren’t watching the news, they were either waiting to watch the news or recovering from watching the news. The news confirmed their feeling that things were terrible everywhere, and there was nothing anyone could do about it apart from keep abreast of developments. I’ve avoided the news ever since.

Fury is something you need, and if someone tells you otherwise, try screaming at them. They’ll often go quiet and start to cry. That’s when you know you’ve won.

Donna can’t believe that one person could own all of these clothes. My thoughts turn, as I’m sure do yours, to moth management. Sometimes people ask me what I do, and the correct answer is ‘almost nothing’, but if pressed, I might say that I’m a writer.

Dispensing with the rug is a kenotic act of distillation. Such men eschew ornament and ostentation. Their very being seems to say, ‘Have you any idea how quickly I can shower?

car. My parents were always in the car, going to places, getting out of the car at those places and asking me to stay in the car until they got back from those places. But they needn’t have asked. Where else would I go? It never occurred to me to leave the car. The only reason I wasn’t still in bed was because I was told it was time to get out of bed and get in the car.

Vaginal eggs are the result of taking the name of a body part and placing it next to the name of a breakfast item. Vaginal eggs are no more real to me than penis toast or anal pancakes. As my mother would always say to me, nothing that can hatch belongs in your vagina.

We applaud both her dogged grit and the film’s message: that there are some people who, despite shutting everyone out of their lives in order to achieve their goals, can repair the untold damage they’ve wreaked by making a small admission of culpability late in Act III, followed by a declaration of love.

How long should we keep believin’? If you think Journey are going to be prescriptive about that, you don’t know Journey.

This is why Willis is one of the most powerful actors of this or any other era. He delivers dialogue like he’s calming a jittery leopard.

We can't live in dreams any more that we can live in the clouds or under socialism.

No one who achieved anything was ‘there’ for someone else. They were elsewhere. Achieving.

The height of your hair illustrates the emotional bandwidth in which you may operate, which is why Chris Walken can emphasise the syllable which he deems appropriate rather than the one that might convey meaning.

Fact is, a commercial aeroplane is one of the most restrictive enviornments in the world. Want to know the difference between a commercial aeroplane and communist China? You can smoke, guff and make consensual love in communist China without fear of reproach!

When I buy Finnegans Wake by James Joyce, the acquisitive part of me is buying it for the deluded part of me that thinks I’ll read it one day, while the archivist part of me keeps it on a shelf with all the other books I haven’t read, so that one day it can present a logistical problem to those who survive me.

What happens when we've long admired someone for their talent and then find out that despite the fact they excel at darts, they're socially conservative? How can we go on enjoying the way a person throws miniature arrows at some circular cork now that we diverge politically? And what if we find that people who make art can be terrible, perhaps even criminal? How do we get back the time we wasted enjoying their work before we knew that we wouldn't have enjoyed it if we'd known? Can we not get some kind of certification of sanctity before we allow ourselves to be moved? Because to be moved by something made by someone who has done something bad would mean that a bad person possesses the capacity to connect to us; that they haven't, somehow, forfeited their humanity.

This is God asking you to leave His kingdom, and by all accounts He's not a Huge One for self-doubt. There is no verse saying, 'And lo, God felt that, on second thoughts, He'd been a bit hasty, so He said, "Adam, mate, at the end of the day it's just a bit of fruit. It's no biggie. I felt a bit mugged off by your missus, I'd been working a six-day week, I'm a little bit tired and emotional, we're all new to this game, come back to the garden and we can thrash it out over a couple of tins.

Time and romance are inextricably linked because as soon as anything starts, it starts to end.

People you haven’t met are easy to idealise, but people who don’t exist are even better. Once you’ve met someone you’re faced with both the uncomfortable realisation that they’re a person and the exhausting prospect of paying attention to what might be unique about them. Invented idols can be controlled. What happens when we’ve long admired someone for their talent and then find out that despite the fact they excel at darts, they’re socially conservative? How can we go on enjoying the way a person throws miniature arrows at some circular cork now that we diverge politically? And what if we find that people who make art can be terrible, perhaps even criminal? How do we get back the time we wasted enjoying their work before we knew that we wouldn’t have enjoyed it if we’d known? Can we not get some kind of certification of sanctity before we allow ourselves to be moved? Because to be moved by something made by someone who has done something bad would mean that a bad person possesses the capacity to connect to us; that they haven’t, somehow, forfeited their humanity. So we must be on guard against gurus, lest their imperfections infect.

This shadowy, depersonalised, frankly militaristic ‘they’ (why should I call the pilot ‘captain’ – I didn’t join his army) is what makes commercial air travel so Orwellian. Say you want to take a nap, what do you ordinarily do? Take off your trousers, clear a space on the floor and maybe set an alarm on your phone. Sometimes I’ve lain down on the pavement for a week, and no one has bothered me. People on my street know me, and they’ll either hop over or take a brief detour into the road. On a plane it’s all, ‘Sir, you’re blocking the trolley.’ Don’t call me ‘sir’ and then tell me what to do! Even the homeless get to sleep lying down. A squatting vagrant huddled in his hovel has more room than the ‘executive’ in business class. How can it be a business-class service if you don’t get your own toilet? Some of the worst things I’ve ever smelt I’ve smelt after opening a business-class toilet. And I’m the one embarrassing myself?! Please. Go smell what’s in the business-class toilets, and then we’ll talk.

It’s like a dream from which you wake, only to realise you were dreaming that you were dreaming. Which is why the choice of ‘Time After Time’ is so perfect. It gently speaks, and often squawks, of the cyclical nature of all narrative. When you hear the song, you feel you’ve heard it before, and you have. Because the story’s an old one: a lover leaves, leaving nothing behind but generalities.

Can we not get some kind of certification of sanctity before we allow ourselves to be moved? Because to be moved by something made by someone who has done something bad would mean that a bad person possesses the capacity to connect to us; that they haven’t, somehow, forfeited their humanity.

Once a plane is in the air, you can't even leave it! I've tried! They won't let you! You have to wait until 'they land'. This shadowy, depersonalised, frankly militaristic 'they' (why should I call the pilot 'captain' - I didn't join his army) is what makes commercial air travel so Orwellian. Say you want to take a nap, what do you ordinarily do? Take off your trousers, clear a space on the floor and maybe set an alarm on your phone. Sometimes I've lain down on the pavement for a week, and no one has bothered me. People on my street know me, and they'll either hop over or take a brief detour into the road. On a plane it's all, 'Sir, you're blocking the trolley.' Don't call me 'sir' and then tell me what to do!