Elwood Quotes

Years ago my mother used to say to me, she'd say, "In this world, Elwood, you must be" - she always called me Elwood - "In this world, Elwood, you must be oh so smart or oh so pleasant." Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. You may quote me.

In this world, you must be oh so smart, or oh so pleasant. Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant.

It’s like Elwood Blues says: everybody needs somebody to love. I’m an everybody. I get a somebody.

In this world, Elwood, you must be oh-so-smart or -oh-so-pleasant. For years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. And you may quote me.

The capacity to suffer. Elwood--all the Nickel boys--existed in the capacity. Breathed in it, ate in it, dreamed in it. That was their lives now. Otherwise they would have perished. The beatings, the rapes, the unrelenting winnowing of themselves. They endured. But to love those who would have destroyed them? To make that leap? We will meet your physical force with soul force. Do to us what you will and we will still love you.

The fact that they're shaped like tiny elves!" Keefe said, clapping his hands before he pointed to the label. "Hang on-THEY CALL THEM 'ELF WITCHES'?" "They do, Keefe. They do. And that's not even the best part." "AHHHHHH LOOK AT THEIR LITTLE FACES!" Keefe shouted as he peeled back the plastic cover. "THIS IS THE GREATEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN---EVER!" "Greater than when you discovered Fitz slept with Mr. Snuggles?" Sophie had to ask. "Um. YEAH. They have names, Foster. NAMES!" He held up one of the cookies and pointed to the name tag the little elf was holding. "This one's Ernie! AHHHH AND THIS ONE IS FAST EDDIE!" he said, snatching a different cookie. "And this one is Bickets! And Elwood! I don't know who named these guys, but whoever they are, they're a genius, I tell you--a GENIUS. - Legacy, chapter 37, page 596-97 hardcover.

When you are famous it is hard to work on small problems. This is what did Shannon in. After information theory, what do you do for an encore? The great scientists often make this error. They fail to continue to plant the little acorns from which the mighty oak trees grow. They try to get the big thing right off. And that isn't the way things go. So that is another reason why you find that when you get early recognition it seems to sterilize you.

Elwood- "It's a 106 miles to Chicago, We got a full tank o' gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses." Jake- "Hit it.

Miss Kelly, you know, when you wear my flower you make it beautiful.

I always have a wonderful time, wherever I am, whomever I'm with.

In this world, you must be oh so smart, or oh so pleasant. Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. ~Elwood P. Dowd

Elwood said, "It's against the law." State law, but also Elwood's. If everyone looked the other way, then everybody was in on it. If he looked the other way, he was as implicated as the rest. That's how he saw it, how he'd always seen things.

Miss Kelly, perhaps you'd like this flower. I seem to have misplaced my buttonhole.

Elwood never ceased to marvel how you could walk around and get used to seeing only a fraction of the world. Not knowing you only saw a sliver of the real thing.

The second thing Elwood noticed was the boy’s eerie sense of self. The mess hall was loud with the rumble and roil of juvenile activity, but this boy bobbed in his own pocket of calm.

Hard work was a fundamental virtue, for hard work didn’t allow time for marches or sit-ins. Elwood would not make a commotion of himself by messing with that movie-theater nonsense, she said. “You have made an agreement with Mr. Marconi to work in his store after school. If your boss can’t depend on you, you won’t be able to keep a job.” Duty might protect him, as it had protected her.

You see, science has overcome time and space. Well, Harvey has overcome not only time and space, but any objections.

Harvey and I sit in the bars... have a drink or two... play the juke box. And soon the faces of all the other people they turn toward mine and they smile. And they're saying, "We don't know your name, mister, but you're a very nice fella." Harvey and I warm ourselves in all these golden moments. We've entered as strangers - soon we have friends. And they come over... and they sit with us... and they drink with us... and they talk to us. They tell about the big terrible things they've done and the big wonderful things they'll do. Their hopes, and their regrets, and their loves, and their hates. All very large, because nobody ever brings anything small into a bar. And then I introduce them to Harvey... and he's bigger and grander than anything they offer me. And when they leave, they leave impressed. The same people seldom come back; but that's envy, my dear. There's a little bit of envy in the best of us.

I could only imagine the prenup I'd have to sign: In the event of a divorce, Mrs. Scaife- Elwood will receive eleventy- bajillion dollars and Mr. Elwood will continue to blame himself for the dissolution of the marriage and the ruining of Mrs. Scaife- Elwood's life, in perpetuity, even though it's probably not his fault.

... Elwood saw that he was always simultaneously at home in whatever scene he found himself and also seemed like he shouldn't have been there; inside and above at the same time; a part and apart. Like a tree trunk that falls across a creek—it doesn't belong and then it's never not been there, generating its own ripples in the larger current.

Well, you've heard the expression, 'his face would stop a clock'. Well, Harvey can look at your clock... and stop it. And you can go anywhere you like, with anyone you like, and stay as long as you like, and when you get back... not one minute will have ticked by.

Yes. You survived! You get to eat breakfast with your family every day and dinner with them every night. When people look at you, they should see courage - literally - in your skin, and face the idea that you didn't give up when they probably would have. You're awake and standing and if they don't realize how amazing that is, the you can just blame me.

...for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant.

In this world, Elwood, you must be oh so smart or oh so pleasant." ' Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. You may quote me.

as chaste men think so the world goes asunder for evil disguised in chaste sweet guilt is the evil that kills the children and starves the soul of love-Elwood Jake

Perhaps if he'd spent more time in the crucible of the county jail, Elwood would have known that it is best not to interfere in other people's violence, no matter the underlying facts of the incident.

No matter that Mr. Marconi had told him he didn’t care, no matter that Elwood had never said a word to his friends when they stole in his presence. It didn’t make no sense until it made the only sense.

Punishment for acting above your station was a central principal in Harriet's interpretation of the world. In the hospital, Elwood wondered if the viciousness of his beating owed something to his request for harder classes...Now he worked on a new theory: There was no higher system guiding Nickel's brutality, merely an indiscriminate spite, one that had nothing to do with people. A figment from tenth-grade science struck him: a Perpetual Misery Machine, one that operated by itself without human agency. Also, Archimedes, one of his first encyclopedia finds. Violence is the only lever big enough to move the world

Turner had never met a kid like Elwood before. Sturdy was the word he returned to, even though the Tallahassee boy looked soft, conducted himself like a goody-goody, and had an irritating tendency to preach. Wore eyeglasses you wanted to grind underfoot like a butterfly. He talked like a white college boy, read books when he didn't have to, and mined them for uranium to power his own personal A-bomb. Still--sturdy.

Watch and think and plan. Let the world be a mob—Elwood will walk through it. They might curse and spit and strike him, but he’d make it through to the other side. Bloodied and tired, but he’d make it through.

She threw him a bone about the movement: 'Lyndon Johnson's carrying on President Kennedy's civil rights bill. And if that good old boy is doing right, you know things is changing. Be a whole different thing when you come home, Elwood.

This or this,” his eye doctor asked at checkups, a choice between two lenses of different power. Elwood never ceased to marvel how you could walk around and get used to seeing only a fraction of the world. Not knowing you only saw a sliver of the real thing. This or this?

He had a narrow raccoon face that drew Elwood’s attention to his tiny nose and dark circles under his eyes and thick bristly eyebrows. Spencer was fastidious with his dark blue Nickel uniform; every crease in his clothes looked sharp enough to cut, as if he were a living blade.

Over time, Elwood saw that he was always simultaneously at home in whatever scene he found himself and also seemed like he shouldn’t have been there; inside and above at the same time; a part and apart. Like a tree trunk that falls across a creek—it doesn’t belong and then it’s never not been there, generating its own ripples in the larger current.

In this world, you must be oh so smart, or oh so pleasant. Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant.

The impact movies make on us are affected by when we watch it, who we see it with, and where we are in our lives at the moment. - Suzy Nakamura

Time is not a memorial it is the pasture where man lies in wait

Love me for who i am and not for whom you think I am. There is so much more to me and if you would truly open your heart you then will know I am for you as you are for me.

He whirled her around under the stars, and somehow, it was perfect. She moved her feet at just the right time, and despite having never been much of a dancer, with Edouard it just… worked.

They were interesting things, stars. Like clouds, you could see them and could not deny their existence. Yet you couldn’t touch them, hold them, or own them. You couldn’t feel them. Love was somewhat the opposite, he pondered. It can’t be seen but it can be felt. It was intangible, like the stars and the clouds, like the heavens and destiny. Yet it existed, he knew this to be true.

Harriet thought they should wake the boy. “Let him sleep,” Evelyn said, and that was the last she heard from them. If her daughter had ever been suited for motherhood, she never demonstrated it. The look on her face when little Elwood suckled on her breast—her joyless, empty eyes seeing through the walls of the house and into pure nothing—chilled Harriet to the bone whenever she remembered it.

Elwood dressed in the dark slacks from last year’s Emancipation Day play. He’d grown a few inches, so he let them out and they showed the barest sliver of his white socks. A new emerald tie clip held his black tie in place and the knot only took six attempts. His shoes glinted with polish. He looked the part, even if he still worried for his glasses if the police brought out nightsticks. If the whites carried iron pipes and baseball bats.

Blakeley took Elwood through the front door and it was swiftly clear that outside was one thing and inside another. The warped floors creaked incessantly and the yellow walls were scuffed and scratched. Stuffing dribbled from the couches and armchairs in the recreation room. Initials and epithets marked the tables, gouged by a hundred mischievous hands. Elwood fixated on the housekeeping chores Harriet would have ticked off for his attention: the fuzzy haloes of finger grime around every cabinet latch and doorknob, the balls of dirt and hair in the corners.

They knew Elwood’s route. Sometimes jeered at him for being a goody-two-shoes when he biked past Larry’s window on his way home. That night they jumped him. It was just getting dark and the smell of magnolias mingled with the tang of fried pork. They slammed him and his bike into the new asphalt the county had laid down that winter. The boys tore his sweater, threw his glasses into the street. As they beat him, Larry asked Elwood if he had any damned sense; Willie declared that he needed to be taught a lesson, and proceeded to do so. Elwood got a few licks in here and there, not much to talk about. He didn’t cry.

Grateful was the teacher rescued by Elwood’s contributions when the classroom fell drowsy with the afternoon heat and he offered up Archimedes or Amsterdam at the key moment. The boy had one usable volume of Fisher’s Universal Encyclopedia, so he used it, what else could he do? Better than nothing. Skipping around, wearing it down, revisiting his favorite parts as if it were one of his adventure tales. As a story, the encyclopedia was disjointed and incomplete, but still exciting in its own right. Elwood filled his notebook with the good parts, definitions and etymology. Later he’d find this scrap-rummaging pathetic.

They'd find a way out of this mess of thorns, she told her grandson, and promised to visit his first Sunday at Nickel. But when she showed up, they told her that he was sick and couldn't have visitors. She asked what was wrong with him. The Nickel man said, [How the h*** should I know, lady?] There was a new pair of denim pants on the chair next to Elwood's hospital bed. The beating had embedded bits of the first into his skin and it took two hours for the doctor to remove the fibers. It was a duty the doctor had to perform from time to time. Tweezers did the trick. The boy would be in the hospital until he walked without pain.

In the three years Elwood played the role, the one constant was his nervousness at the climax, when Jackson had to kiss his best girl on the cheek. They were to be married and, it was implied, live a happy and fertile life in the new Tallahassee. Whether Marie-Jean was played by Anne, with her freckles and sweet moon face, or by Beatrice, whose buck teeth hooked into her lower lip, or in his final performance by Gloria Taylor, a foot taller and sending him to the tips of his toes, a knot of anxiety tautened in his chest and he got dizzy. All the hours in Marconi’s library had rehearsed him for heavy speeches but left him ill-prepared for performances with the brown beauties of Lincoln High, on the stage and off.

In some ways Turner had been telling Elwood’s story ever since his friend died, through years and years of revisions, of getting it right, as he stopped being the desperate alley cat of his youth and turned into a man he thought Elwood would have been proud of. It was not enough to survive, you have to live—he heard Elwood’s voice as he walked down Broadway in the sunlight or at the end of a long night hunched over the books. Turner walked into Nickel with strategies and hard-won dodges and a knack for keeping out of scrapes. He jumped over the fence on the other side of the pasture and into the woods and then both boys were gone. In Elwood’s name, he tried to find another way. Now here he was. Where had it taken him?

The appearance of Professor Benjamin Peirce, whose long gray hair, straggling grizzled beard and unusually bright eyes sparkling under a soft felt hat, as he walked briskly but rather ungracefully across the college yard, fitted very well with the opinion current among us that we were looking upon a real live genius, who had a touch of the prophet in his make-up.

You will fall in love with someone who you will have to walk away from, because they don’t love you. You must accept the fact that they don’t have your best interests in mind. That’s a tough pill to swallow, but you must swallow it for you own the sake. You have nothing further to prove to them love yourself enough to grab your bootstraps pick yourself up and keep moving

Elwood took the long way back, around the trails that circumnavigated Boot Hill and took him past the stables and laundry. He was slow with his steps. He didn’t want to know if Turner had been intercepted, or if the boy had ratted on him or simply taken his letter up to his hideout and put a match to it. Whatever waited for him on the other side would still be waiting for him whenever he got there, so he whistled a tune he remembered from when he was little, a blues tune. He didn’t recall the words or whether it had been his father or mother who sang it, but he felt good whenever the song snuck up on him, a kind of coolness like the shadow of a cloud out of nowhere, something that broke off something bigger. Yours briefly before it sailed on its way.

Elwood had no paper, no pen, just walls, and he was all out of fine thoughts, let alone the wisdom and the way with words. The world had whispered its rules to him for his whole life and he refused to listen, hearing instead a higher order. The world continued to instruct: Do not love for they will disappear, do not trust for you will be betrayed, do not stand up for you will be swatted down. Still he heard those higher imperatives: Love and that love will be returned, trust in the righteous path and it will lead you to deliverance, fight and things will change. He never listened, never saw what was plainly in front of him, and now he had been plucked from the world altogether. The only voices were those of the boys below, the shouts and laughter and fearful cries, as if he floated in a bitter heaven.

Turner let the work speak for itself. Harper wanted to be certain about Elwood's comfort with his new detail. 'You don't look surprised,' the young white man said. 'It has to end up somewhere,' Elwood responded. 'How things are done. Spencer tells me where to go, and he kicks it up to Director Hardee.' Harper fiddled the dial after more rock and roll: Elvis popped up again. He was everywhere. 'It used to be worse in the old days,' Harper said, 'from what my aunt says. But the state cracked down and now we lay off the south-campus stuff.' Meaning, they old sold the black students' supplies. 'We had this god old boy who used to run Nickel, Roberts, who would've sold the air you breathe if he could've. Now that was a crook!' 'Beats cleaning the toilets,' Turner said. 'Beats cutting grass, if you ask me.' It was nice to be out, and Elwood said so.

Uma coisa dava à luz outra: sem a cela onde o reverendo estivera preso, não haveria um magnífico apelo à ação. Elwood não tinha papel nem caneta, apenas paredes. Não lhe restavam pensamentos belos, quanto mais sabedoria e habilidade com as palavras. O mundo tinha-lhe segredado as regras para o resto da vida e ele recusara-se a ouvir, escutando antes uma ordem mais elevada. O mundo continuava a instruí-lo: não ames porque eles vão desaparecer, não confies porque eles vão trair, não te ergas em defesa própria porque vais ser esmagado. Mesmo assim, ouvia imperativos de ordem maior: ama e esse amor será devolvido, confia no caminho dos justos e esse caminho desembocará na libertação, luta e as coisas mudarão. ele nunca ouvira ou tão-pouco tinha visto aquilo que era tão obvio, que estava diante de si, e agora fora arrancado do mundo de uma vez por todas.

Throw us in jail, and we will still love you. Bomb our homes and threaten our children, and, as difficult as it is, we will still love you. Send your hooded perpetrators of violence into our communities after midnight hours, and drag us out onto some wayside road, and beat us and leave us half-dead, and we will still love you. But be ye assured that we will wear you down by our capacity to suffer, and one day we will win our freedom. The capacity to suffer. Elwood—all the Nickel boys—existed in the capacity. Breathed in it, ate in it, dreamed in it. That was their lives now. Otherwise they would have perished. The beatings, the rapes, the unrelenting winnowing of themselves. They endured. But to love those who would have destroyed them? To make that leap? We will meet your physical force with soul force. Do to us what you will and we will still love you.

Sometimes you have to walk away from people, not because you don’t care, but because they don’t. When someone hurts you accept the fact that they don’t have your best interests in mind. It’s a tough pill to swallow, but its necessary medicine. Do not strive to impress them any further. Waste not another second of your time trying to prove something to them. Nothing has to be proven. Do not act with any thought of them ever again.

Elwood had never been much of a crier, but he’d taken it up since the arrest. The tears came at night, when he imagined what Nickel held in store for him. When he heard his grandmother sobbing in her room next door, fussing around, opening and closing things because she didn’t know what to do with her hands. When he tried without success to figure out why his life had bent to this wretched avenue. He knew he couldn’t let the boys see him weep, so he turned over in the bunk and put his pillow over his head and listened to the voices: the jokes and taunts, the stories of home and distant cronies, the juvenile conjectures about how the world worked and their naïve plans to outwit it. He’d started the day in his old life and ended it here. The pillowcase smelled like vinegar, and in the night the katydids and crickets screeched in waves, soft then loud, back and forth.

Remember all those classic books you HAD to read in school? They sucked, right? Well, guess what? They are actually . . . classics. 'Brave New World', '1984', 'The Martian Chronicles' and even 'Animal Farm' are pretty cool it you're not told you HAVE to read them. If you discover them on your own or if you reread them without having a report due that sends you scurrying to buy CliffNotes or access Wikipedia, then you can actually relax and enjoy them. - Chris Mancini

What about their family? How many boys you know here got family? Or got family that cares about them? Not everyone is you, Elwood. Turner got jealous when Elwood's grandmother visited and brought him snacks, and it slipped out from time to time. Like now. The blinders Elwood wore, walking around. The law was one thing-- you can march and wave signs around and change a law if you convinced enough white people. In Tampa, Turner saw the college kids with their nice shirts and ties sit in at Woolworths. He had to work, but they were out protesting. And it happened-- they opened the counter. Turner didn't have the money to eat there either way. You can change the law but you can't change people and the way they treat each other. Nickel was racist as h***--half the people who worked here probably dressed up like the Klan on the weekends--but the way Turner saw it, wickedness went deeper than skin color. It was Spencer. It was Spencer and it was Griff and it was all the parents who let their children wind up here. It was people. Which is why Turner brought Elwood out to the two trees. To show him something that wasn't in books.

I'd just put Ed Hickey into a taxi. Ed had been mixing his rye with his gin, and I just felt that he needed conveying. Well, anyway, I was walking down along the street and I heard this voice saying, "Good evening, Mr. Dowd." Well, I turned around and here was this big six-foot rabbit leaning up against a lamp-post. Well, I thought nothing of that because when you've lived in a town as long as I've lived in this one, you get used to the fact that everybody knows your name. And naturally I went over to chat with him. And he said to me... he said, "Ed Hickey was a little spiffed this evening, or could I be mistaken?" Well, of course, he was not mistaken. I think the world and all of Ed, but he was spiffed. Well, we talked like that for awhile and then I said to him, I said, "You have the advantage on me. You know my name and I don't know yours." And, and right back at me he said, "What name do you like?" Well, I didn't even have to think twice about that. Harvey's always been my favorite name. So I said to him, I said, "Harvey." And, uh, this is the interesting thing about the whole thing: He said, "What a coincidence. My name happens to be Harvey.

[Benjamin Peirce's] lectures were not easy to follow. They were never carefully prepared. The work with which he rapidly covered the blackboard was very illegible, marred with frequent erasures, and not infrequent mistakes (he worked too fast for accuracy). He was always ready to digress from the straight path and explore some sidetrack that had suddenly attracted his attention, but which was likely to have led nowhere when the college bell announced the close of the hour and we filed out, leaving him abstractedly staring at his work, still with chalk and eraser in his hands, entirely oblivious of his departing class.

HE remembered looking "agape" in his encyclopedia volume after he read Dr. King's speech in the DEFENDER. The newspaper ran the address in full after the reverend's appearance at Cornell College. If Elwood had come across the word before, through all those years of skipping around the book, it hadn't stuck in his head. King described "agape" as a divine love operating in the heart of man. A selfless love, an incandescent love, the highest there is. He called upon his Negro audience to cultivate that pure love for their oppressors, that it might carry them to the other side of the struggle. Elwood tried to get his head around it, now that it was no longer the abstraction floating in his head last spring. It was real now. "Throw us in jail and we will still love you. Bomb our homes and threaten our children, and, as difficult as it is, we will still love you. Send your hooded perpetrators of violence into our communities after midnight hours, and drag us out onto some wayside road, and beat us and leave us half-dead, and we will still love you. But be ye assured that we will wear you down by our capacity to suffer, and one day we will win our freedom. The capacity to suffer. Elwood--all the Nickel boys--existed in the capacity. Breathed in it, ate in it, dreamed in it. That was their lives now. Otherwise they would have perished. The beatings, the rapes, the unrelenting winnowing of themselves. They endured. But to love those who destroyed them? To make that leap? "We will meet your physical force with soul force. Do to us what you will and we will still love you." Elwood shook his head. What a thing to ask. What an impossible thing.

Yes,” Andy said. “But I’ll be hiring a lawyer, you know.” “What in God’s name for?” “I think we can put it together,” Andy said. “With Tommy Williams and with my testimony and corroborative testimony from records and employees at the country club, I think we can put it together.” “Tommy Williams is no longer an inmate of this facility.” “What?” “He’s been transferred.” “Transferred where?” “Cashman.” At that, Andy fell silent. He was an intelligent man, but it would have taken an extraordinarily stupid man not to smell deal all over that. Cashman was a minimum-security prison far up north in Aroostook County. The inmates pick a lot of potatoes, and that’s hard work, but they are paid a decent wage for their labor and they can attend classes at CVI, a pretty decent vocational-technical institute, if they so desire. More important to a fellow like Tommy, a fellow with a young wife and a child, Cashman had a furlough program . . . which meant a chance to live like a normal man, at least on the weekends. A chance to build a model plane with his kid, have sex with his wife, maybe go on a picnic. Norton had almost surely dangled all of that under Tommy’s nose with only one string attached: not one more word about Elwood Blatch, not now, not ever. Or you’ll end up doing hard time in Thomaston down there on scenic Route 1 with the real hard guys, and instead of having sex with your wife you’ll be having it with some old bull queer. “But why?” Andy said. “Why would—” “As a favor to you,” Norton said calmly, “I checked with Rhode Island. They did have an inmate named Elwood Blatch. He was given what they call a PP—provisional parole, another one of these crazy liberal programs to put criminals out on the streets. He’s since disappeared.” Andy said: “The warden down there . . . is he a friend of yours?” Sam Norton gave Andy a smile as cold as a deacon’s watchchain. “We are acquainted,” he said.

In this world, you must be oh so smart, or oh so pleasant. Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant.

Elwood had thoughtfully fed Patrick. There was a clean-licked plate on the kitchen tile. Patrick was curled up before a gas fireplace, though there was no fire.

When he bets, he does this thing that a lot of players do when they’re betting with a vulnerable hand: he puts out his chips into the pot for the bet, and then holds a stack of chips a few inches behind the betting line, almost as if to subtly imply he’s ready to call if I were to raise him. I wait a few seconds. He stays completely quiet.

Is this your dress for the ball tonight?” “Yes.” “Carter said you promised it’d be green. He’s been talking about it matching your pretty green eyes all week.” “He talks about me?” Ducky chuckled. “Nonstop.” “He’s probably like that with all the girls he’s—” “Nope. Only you.” Ducky eyed her. “Never seen him like this about anyone before, and we’ve been friends for quite a while now. I know you two have had your differences over Elwood and all, but you have something special. Hey, even an old hayseed like me can see it. He’s drawn to you like a fly to a piece of cherry pie.

We're on a mission from God.

When a script focuses on being a film instead of a formula, it can transcend the ghetto of its genre. -Mike Schmidt

Laws are not drawn up near dumpsters with dirty needles and rats, but in mahogany trimmed board rooms where the marble gleams with the light of noble intentions. Rarely do these coincide with the gun toting men who are charged with the task of enforcing them. They are the offensive linemen of society. Nobody buys their jersey. People just yell at them when they are offsides. But without him everything will collapse! When I was an offensive guard I did whatever I could to block the other guy. So I can empathize with Inspector Harry Callahan and his methods. I love it when Callahan is still chewing his hot dog as he blows away punks who think they can steal from a bank during the middle of the day in San Francisco. Dirty Harry you had me at 'do you feel lucky?' Real cops couldn't catch the Zodiac killer, but Harry blew that scumbag into a pond, then followed up by throwing his badge into the same pond, because he too knows that the rules of 'decent' society are a myth that pretty people in big houses talk about over tea.

The breakthrough study was done by Dr. Peter Elwood and a team from the Cochrane Institute of Primary Care and Public Health, Cardiff University, United Kingdom, and released in December 2013. For thirty years, these researchers followed 2,235 men living in Caerphilly, Wales, aged 45 to 59, and observed the impact of five activities on their health and on whether they developed dementia or cognitive decline, heart disease, cancer, or early death. The Cardiff study was meticulous, examining the men at intervals over the thirty years, and if they showed signs of cognitive decline or dementia, they were sent for detailed clinical assessments of high quality. It overcame study design problems from eleven previous studies (discussed in the endnotes). Results showed that if the men did four or five of the following behaviors, their risk for cognitive (mental) decline and dementia (including Alzheimer’s) fell by 60 percent:

its my favorite thing. it is literally... its like saying honey its date night, we need a sitter for the kids. there's only two babysitters to choose from. a pedophile and a meth head.

Caine’s a guy who needs to win. He needs to win before he poofs. Or he needs to win before I poof. The point is, he’s not going to just accept us freeing all these kids from Coates and taking over Perdido Beach,” Sam said. “So we need to be ready. And we need to be ready for something else, too: tomorrow is my birthday.” He made a wry face. “Not a birthday I’m exactly looking forward to. But, anyway, we need to decide who takes over for me if…when…I step outside.” Several of the kids made sympathetic or encouraging noises about how Sam maybe wasn’t going to blink out, or maybe it would be a good thing, an escape from the FAYZ. But Sam hushed them all. “Look, the good thing is, when I go, so does Caine. The bad thing is, that still leaves Drake and Diana and other bullies. Orc…well, we don’t exactly know what’s going on with him, but Howard’s not with him. And Lana…we don’t know what happened to her, whether she left or what.” The loss of Lana was a serious blow. Every one of the Coates refugees adored her for the way she had healed their hands. And it was reassuring to think that she could heal anyone who was injured. Astrid said, “I nominate Edilio to take over if…you know. Anyway, we need a number two, a vice president or vice mayor or whatever.” Edilio did a double take, like Astrid must be talking about some other Edilio. Then he said, “No way. Astrid’s the smartest person here.” “I have Little Pete to look after. Mary has to care for the prees and keep them out of harm’s way. Dahra has responsibility for treating anyone who gets hurt. Elwood has been so busy in the hospital with Dahra, he hasn’t dealt with Caine or Drake or any of the Coates faction. Edilio’s been up against Orc and Drake. And he’s always been brave and smart and able.” She winked at Edilio, acknowledging his discomfort. “Right,” Sam said. “So unless someone has an objection, that’s the way it is. If I get hurt or I ditch, Edilio’s in charge.” “Respect to Edilio,” Dekka said, “but he doesn’t even have powers.” “He has the power to earn trust and to come through when he has to,

Costa stepped out of the Jeep, smiling as if attending an exhibition where he was the featured artist. Elwood Mills handcuffed himself to the murder suspect so that Costa would not try to make an escape in the dense woods.

Frances Leonardi sat in the back seat of the yellow school bus. Occasionally, she looked back at the vehicle traveling close behind them. It was a fortified army surplus Jeep driven by a court officer. Sheriff’s deputy Elwood Mills, armed with a shotgun, sat in the passenger seat.

The vehicles all turned left onto Conwell Street, opposite Race Point Road. The street was narrow, and the convoy travelled slowly. Sadie, Thumper, and Strawberry Blonde were straddling their bicycles and waiting at the corner of Old Ann Page Way as the Jeep carrying Costa motored passed. The trio pedaled hard to catch up with the vehicle, and they rode alongside, acting as escorts for the murder suspect’s homecoming. “Should we be concerned?” Elwood Mills asked as he tightened his grip on the rifle. “Nah, they’re just girls,” the driver said. “They don’t pose a threat to us.

I just wanted to make the police look stupid.

1987: The law was playing games with me so I was playing games with them

No, I didn’t kill Adam Walsh.

This equivalence wasn’t discovered until the 1930s, most notably by Claude Elwood Shannon (born 1916), whose famous 1938 M.I.T. master’s thesis was entitled “A Symbolic Analysis of Relay and Switching Circuits.

Elwood- "Shit." Jake- "What?" Elwood- "Rollers." Jake- "No!" Elwood- "Yeah." Jake- "Shit.

The last people legitimately on a mission from Me were named Jake and Elwood.

from the movie "Harvey" Elwood Dowd's sister Vita, to her daughter. "Mrytle Mae, you have a lot to learn. And I hope you never do!

To meet the great tasks that are before us, we require all our intelligence, and we must be sound and wholesome in mind. We must proceed in order. The price of anger is failure.

You can blind yourself so you can’t see with your eyes the Things you don’t want to see. You can’t close your heart to not feel the things you don’t want to feel with your heart.

Do not wait for inspiration to find you You must pick yourself up and go and find it.

Never hold on to someone that’s not afraid to lose you. If you do you will miss the one that you’re meant to be with.

Life is not what you think it will be, you will have good times, sad times and bad times. At some point in your Life it will knock you to your knees just to test your resolve. Never give in and never give up there always is a light at the end of the tunnel you just have keep taking steps toward the light crawl if you have to, just keep going. You must know and experience all aspects of life in order to fully comprehend and understand life once you have experienced the good bad and ugly in life can you fully enjoy the gift of life.

BEAUTY IS ONLY SKIN DEEP MANY PEOPLE ARE BEAUTIFUL ON THE OUTSIDE AND COLD AS ICE ON THE INSIDE. ALWAYS LOOK BEYOND THE LOOKS AND TAKE THE TIME TO LOOK IN THEIR HEARTS AND SEE IF THEY HAVE MORALS, VALUES AND COMPASSION. IF THAT ISN'T THERE ALL YOU HAVE IS AN EMPTY SHELL. SO GOES THE SAYING..CERTAIN THINGS CATCH YOUR EYE, BUT PURSUE ONLY THOSE THAT CAPTURE YOUR HEART.

You have two choices in life you can live with a good attitude or a bad attitude towards life. The decision is yours I hope you make the right decision.

Live the life you love. Love the ,life you live.

Elwood guided her and Patrick to his house. It was half a mile from the plaza and Lana was practically sleepwalking by the time they reached it. “Come on in,” Elwood said. “You want something to eat?” Lana shook her head. “Just a place to . . . that couch.” “You could use one of the bedrooms upstairs.” Lana was already facedown on the couch.

But lives were long, and people changed.

The second thing Elwood noticed was the boy's eerie sense of self. The mess hall was loud with the rumble and roil of juvenile activity, but this boy bobbed in his own pocket of calm. Over time, Elwood saw that he was always simultaneously at home in whatever scene he found himself and also seemed like he shouldn't have been there; inside and above at the same time; a part and apart.

The second thing Elwood noticed was the boy's eerie sense of self. The mess hall was loud with the rumble and roil of juvenile activity, but this boy bobbed in his own pocket of calm. Over time, Elwood saw that he was always simultaneously at home in whatever scene he found himself and also seemed like he shouldn't have been there; onside and above at the same time; a part and apart.