Empire Strikes Back Quotes

Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter.

Bet you can't even name one romantic movie you like," she teased. She felt smug when a few minutes went by and Oliver was still unable to name one romantic movie he could profess to enjoy. The Empire Strikes Back," Oliver finally declared, tapping his horn at a Prius that wandered over the line. The Empire Strikes Back? The Star Wars movie? That's not romantic!" Schuyler huffed, fiddling with the air conditioner controls. Au contraire, my dear, it's very romantic. The last scene, you know, when they're about to put Han in that freezing cryogenic chamber or whatever? Remember?" Schuyler mmm-hmmmed. And Leia leans over the ledge and says, 'I love you.'" That's cheesy, not romatic," Schuyler argued, although she did like that part. Let me explain. What's romantic is what Han says back. Remember what he says to her? After she says 'I love you'?" Schuyler grinned. Maybe Oliver had a point. "Han says, 'I know.'" Exactly," Oliver tapped the wheel. "He doesn't have to say anything so trite as 'I love you." Because that's already understood. And that's romantic.

No. Try not. Do... or do not. There is no try.

I'd rather kiss a wookie!

[Luke:] I can’t believe it. [Yoda:] That is why you fail.

Authoritarians do not announce themselves and knock down your door. They are invited in.

The airliner-sized dragon blew apart in a monumental spray of blood and pulp. Great chunks of flesh the size of boulders rained down from the sky. “The empire is striking back,” Ambassador Syme observed, peering out the window beside CJ.

I love you" "I know

Impressive, most impressive, worthy lad, Thine Obi-Wan hath taught thee well, and thou Hast master'd all thy fears. Now, go! Release Thine anger, for thy hate alone can strike Me down!

I then vowed to finally finish the years-late sequel to my best-selling book The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian. I needed that money. My mother needed that money. I hadn't been able to finish the book because of the pathological fear that my sequel would be The Phantom Menace instead of The Empire Strikes Back. But, on the airplane, I thought, "Okay, okay, Phantom sucked, but it still made big cash. I'm gonna Yoda this book for my mother.

Why you no good, scruffy looking, nerf herder!

Harmony, we seek. Reality, we accept. The future, we behold. Feel the Force and go beyond.

The Empire Strikes Back? The bald guy with the cool bionic radio-transmitter thing that wraps around the back of his skull?

During The Empire Strikes Back, in the famous asteroid scene, one of the deadly asteroids is actually a potato.

There is no restraint or principle at the center of the New Order. And that is why people admire it. The Empire does all the things that people secretly believe should be done with power.

The lightning continued to strike, silent and lovely, even after he stilled. The sounds of the world came pouring back in, his breathing as ragged as the hiss of the crashing waves while he brushed lazy kisses to her temple, her nose, her mouth. Aelin drew her eyes away from the beauty of their magic, the beauty of them, and found his face to be the most beautiful of all. She

Remember in The Empire Strikes Back, when Yoda said to Luke Skywalker that there is no try, only do (or do not)? The same is true with the placebo response: There is no try; there’s only allow.

When The Empire Strikes Back first came out in 1980 and I saw Luke summon his lightsaber to his hand in the wampa cave, I remember thinking, “Whoa! Awesome!” And then, after I’d seen it maybe ten more times, I wondered, “Where’d he learn how to do that?” My nine-year-old self never suspected that one day I’d get the chance to provide the answer, and I’m grateful to Del Rey and Lucasfilm for making it happen.

Looking off to the horizon, properly and heroically squinting, Onni added, 'Get your washtub ready, brother. It will be a bloody business when the gnome empire strikes back.' 'Whoa,' Offi said, with feeling. 'You totally just gave me chills.

During my first few months of Facebooking, I discovered that my page had fostered a collective nostalgia for specific cultural icons. These started, unsurprisingly, within the realm of science fiction and fantasy. They commonly included a pointy-eared Vulcan from a certain groundbreaking 1960s television show. Just as often, though, I found myself sharing images of a diminutive, ancient, green and disarmingly wise Jedi Master who speaks in flip-side down English. Or, if feeling more sinister, I’d post pictures of his black-cloaked, dark-sided, heavy-breathing nemesis. As an aside, I initially received from Star Trek fans considerable “push-back,” or at least many raised Spock brows, when I began sharing images of Yoda and Darth Vader. To the purists, this bordered on sacrilege.. But as I like to remind fans, I was the only actor to work within both franchises, having also voiced the part of Lok Durd from the animated show Star Wars: The Clone Wars. It was the virality of these early posts, shared by thousands of fans without any prodding from me, that got me thinking. Why do we love Spock, Yoda and Darth Vader so much? And what is it about characters like these that causes fans to click “like” and “share” so readily? One thing was clear: Cultural icons help people define who they are today because they shaped who they were as children. We all “like” Yoda because we all loved The Empire Strikes Back, probably watched it many times, and can recite our favorite lines. Indeed, we all can quote Yoda, and we all have tried out our best impression of him. When someone posts a meme of Yoda, many immediately share it, not just because they think it is funny (though it usually is — it’s hard to go wrong with the Master), but because it says something about the sharer. It’s shorthand for saying, “This little guy made a huge impact on me, not sure what it is, but for certain a huge impact. Did it make one on you, too? I’m clicking ‘share’ to affirm something you may not know about me. I ‘like’ Yoda.” And isn’t that what sharing on Facebook is all about? It’s not simply that the sharer wants you to snortle or “LOL” as it were. That’s part of it, but not the core. At its core is a statement about one’s belief system, one that includes the wisdom of Yoda. Other eminently shareable icons included beloved Tolkien characters, particularly Gandalf (as played by the inimitable Sir Ian McKellan). Gandalf, like Yoda, is somehow always above reproach and unfailingly epic. Like Yoda, Gandalf has his darker counterpart. Gollum is a fan favorite because he is a fallen figure who could reform with the right guidance. It doesn’t hurt that his every meme is invariably read in his distinctive, blood-curdling rasp. Then there’s also Batman, who seems to have survived both Adam West and Christian Bale, but whose questionable relationship to the Boy Wonder left plenty of room for hilarious homoerotic undertones. But seriously, there is something about the brooding, misunderstood and “chaotic-good” nature of this superhero that touches all of our hearts.

Many critics of the Crusades would seem to suppose that after the Muslims had overrun a major portion of Christendom, they should have been ignored or forgiven; suggestions have been made about turning the other cheek. This outlook is certainly unrealistic and probably insincere. Not only had the Byzantines lost most of their empire; the enemy was at their gates. And the loss of Spain, Sicily, and southern Italy, as well as a host of Mediterranean islands, was bitterly resented in Europe. Hence, as British historian Derek Lomax (1933-1992) explained, 'The popes, like most Christians, believed war against the Muslims to be justified partly because the latter had usurped by force lands which once belonged to Christians and partly because they abused the Christians over whom they ruled and such Christian lands as they could raid for slaves, plunder and the joys of destruction.' It was time to strike back.

Do or do not. There is no try.

Rebellions are built on hope.

These terrorists had gambled on the proposition that the Empire would never strike back.

But that’s the funny thing about hope, Dak’s learned—you only have to get lucky once.

Lu·cas   George (1944- ), U.S. movie director, producer, and screenwriter. He wrote, directed, and produced the science-fiction movie Star Wars (1977) and then went on to write and produce The Empire Strikes Back (1980), Return of the Jedi (1983), and Star Wars: Episode I: The Phantom Menace (1999). He also wrote and produced the "Indiana Jones" series of movies (1981-89).

You'd be hard-pressed to find a human who can't hum the opening lines of Darth Vader's theme, "The Imperial March," or describe one of the iconic scenes it underscores in Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back. It would be far more difficult to find someone who knows that John Williams's longtime collaborator on that film and many others was Angela Morley, a transgender woman who is responsible for some of the most memorable scores in film and television.

Emon braced himself, but he didn't despair. He was a rebel, and that mean that he was more than his weapon, his uniform, or his rank. He was an idea and ideas couldn't be snuffed out, not even on the desolate, frozen plains of Hoth.

I was constantly insecure about whether the tone was right—tone is everything, an indefinable thing, like quality,” Kershner says. “True discipline is from within. Every artist, every painter, every novelist, anyone who does anything must do it for himself, must have his own discipline. That is really what tempers the character. That’s what makes it possible to do something beautiful and to become something beautiful. That, ultimately, is what the film I’m making is about.

He doesn’t have to fight anymore. He can let go. Calm sweeps across him. Suddenly the numb isn’t so bad. The panic’s gone. Nothing hurts. It’s all right, he thinks. It’s all right. He’s falling through the tunnel; he’s left his body and the speeder behind. He’s left Luke behind.

George said just off the top of his head, ‘I’d like to see a metal castle in the snow,’ ” McQuarrie says. “George was looking for a place to put Vader’s office.” In one entry, Lucas seems to have reconstructed how he arrived at the name Darth Vader—a combination of the words dark, death, invader.

Jules had listened in on nearly every word exchanged while they’d been back there together, and it was more than obvious that Max had yet to pull Gina into his arms and do his imitation of the Han Solo and Princess Leia big-moment kiss from The Empire Strikes Back. Maybe when Jules and the E-man walked out of the garage and climbed into that ancient Escort—which turned out to be part of the Testa fleet-Max would take the opportunity to plant a big, wet one on this woman that he still so obviously adored. Or maybe not. “Sweetie, I love the haircut,” Jules told Gina as he gave Max back his cell phone. “You look fabulous for a woman who’s been dead for five days.” “What?” she said, but it was time to go. “Max’ll fill you in,” he said. There. There was no way Max was going to be table to tell Gina about receiving the report of her death without getting a little misty-eyed. At which point Gina would, at the very least, throw her arms around him. If Max couldn’t manage to turn that into a truth-revealing kiss, he didn’t deserve the woman. “Ow,” he added as Emilio pressed his weapon into Jules’s kidney. “Sorry,” Emilio managed to put the right amount of apology into his voice, but he was obviously so stressed that he didn’t quite get the right facial expression to match. It was pretty odd. Particularly when he jabbed Jules again. “Let’s go.” Wow, wasn’t this going to be fun? Max, meanwhile, had stepped protectively in front of Gina. He caught and held Jules’s gaze. “We’ll wait for your call.” Silently, he sent another message entirely. If Emilio gave Jules any trouble, he should shoot him. Never mind the fact that Emilio was the one with the drawn weapon. Never mind that Jules’s hands were out and empty, and that he’d have a major bullet hole in his body if he so much as put said hands near his pockets.

I don’t think George Lucas would want you to do this,” her mom said. “I didn’t know you knew who George Lucas was.” “Please. I was watching Star Wars movies before you were born. Your dad and I saw Empire Strikes Back five times in the theater.” “Lucky,” Elena said. “George Lucas is a father of daughters,” her mother said. “He wouldn’t want young girls freezing to death to prove their loyalty.” “This isn’t about George Lucas,” Elena said. “He isn’t even that involved in the sequels.” “Come home,” her mom said. “We’ll watch Empire Strikes Back and I’ll make hot cocoa.” “I can’t,” Elena said. “I’ll lose my place in line.” “I think it will still be there for you in the morning.” “Goodnight, Mom.

Battle in the Snow has an unusual orchestration calling for five piccolos, five oboes, a battery of eight percussion, two grand pianos, and two or three harps, in addition to the normal orchestral complement,” Williams notes. “This was necessary in order to achieve a bizarre sound, a mechanical, brutal sound for the sequence showing Imperial walkers.

He’s a slick, riverboat gambler type of dude. Han Solo is a rather crude, rough and tumble kind of guy; this guy will be a very slicked down, elegant, James Bond–type. He’s much more of a con man, which puts him more in the Mr. Spock style of thinking, being smart, cool, and taking tremendous chances. An emotional Spock, someone who uses his wits rather than his brawn.

Indeed,” Arobynn said, “I’d hate to see you back in Endovier, too. Though I will say these past two years have made you even more striking. Womanhood suits you.” He cocked his head, and she knew it was coming before he amended, “Or should I say queen-hood?” It had been a decade since they’d spoken baldly of her heritage, or of the title he had helped her walk away from, had taught her to hate and fear. Sometimes he’d mentioned it in veiled terms, usually as a threat to keep her bound to him. But he had never once said her true name—not even when he’d found her on that icy riverbank and carried her into his house of killers. “What makes you think I have any interest in that?” she said casually. Arobynn shrugged his broad shoulders. “One can’t put much faith in gossip, but word arrived about a month ago from Wendlyn. It claimed that a certain lost queen put on a rather spectacular show for an invading legion from Adarlan. Actually, I believe the title our esteemed friends in the empire now like to use is ‘fire-breathing bitch-queen.

Editing is perhaps the only one of the film arts that has no historical antecedents,” says Hirsch. “Editing is the choice of the images, their succession, and their duration. An editor is dealing with time, which is more of a concern in the musical arts. Only film and music require that an audience comprehend the details of a work of art over a given period of time. You can read a novel in one sitting or you can take six months to read it. You can look at the edges or at the center of a painting; you’re not compelled to experience it in any order.

I suppose the unconscious mind works all the time on one’s problems,” he adds. “Sometimes themes come very painfully after hours of holding my head in my hands at the piano. Days can go by and I’ll think it is never going to come. Then I’ll sit down at the piano and it sort of pops into my mind; after two weeks of frustration, it just appears out of nowhere. Other times, I might think about a theme for a character and get it straight off. It is a strange and mysterious and frustrating process, almost impossible to describe. It was like exhuming another part of myself in a way, to have to go back and continue a score that was done that long ago. But if you can just get out of the way and let it happen, not let whatever neurotic hang-ups about writing get in the way, one is free to do it.

First, the biblical descriptions regarding the coming of Jesus the Jewish Messiah bear many striking resemblances to the coming Antichrist of Islam, whom Muslims refer to as the al-maseeh al-dajjaal (the counterfeit Messiah). Second, the Bible’s Antichrist bears numerous striking commonalities with the primary messiah figure of Islam, who Muslims call the Mahdi. In other words, our Messiah is their antichrist and our Antichrist is their messiah. Even more shocking to many readers was the revelation that Islam teaches that when Jesus returns, He will come back as a Muslim prophet whose primary mission will be to abolish Christianity. It’s difficult for any Bible believer to read of these things without becoming acutely aware of the satanic origins of the Islamic religion. In 2008, I also had the opportunity to coauthor another book on the same subject with Walid Shoebat, a former operative for the Palestine Liberation Organization. This book, entitled God’s War on Terror, is an almost encyclopedic discussion of the role of Islam in the last days, as well as a chronicle of Walid’s journey from a young Palestinian Muslim with a deep hatred for the Jews, to a Christian man who spends his life standing with the Jewish people and proclaiming the truth concerning the dangers of radical Islam. Together these two books have become the cornerstone of what has developed into a popular eschatological revolution. Today, I receive a steady stream of e-mails and reports from individuals expressing how much these books have affected them and transformed their understanding of the end-times. Students, pastors, and even reputable scholars have expressed that they have abandoned the popular notion that the Antichrist, his empire, and his religion will emerge out of Europe or a revived Roman Empire. Instead they have come to recognize the simple fact that the Bible emphatically and repeatedly points us to the Middle East as the launchpad and epicenter of the emerging empire of the Antichrist and his religion. Many testify that although they have been students of Bible prophecy for many years, never before had anything made so much sense, or the prophecies of the Bible become so clear. And even more important, some have even written to share that they’ve become believers or recommitted their lives to Jesus as a result of reading these books. Hallelujah!

Statement on Hamas (October 10th, 2023) When Israel strikes, it's "national security" - when Palestine strikes back, it's "terrorism". Just like over two hundred years ago when native americans resisted their homeland being stolen, it was called "Indian Attack". Or like over a hundred years ago when Indian soldiers in the British Army revolted against the empire, in defense of their homeland, it was called "Sepoy Mutiny". The narrative never changes - when the colonizer terrorizes the world, it's given glorious sounding names like "exploration" and "conquest", but if the oppressed so much as utters a word in resistance, it is branded as attack, mutiny and terrorism - so that, the real terrorists can keep on colonizing as the self-appointed ruler of land, life and morality, without ever being held accountable for violating the rights of what they deem second rate lifeforms, such as the arabs, indians, latinos and so on. After all this, some apes will still only be interested in one stupid question. Do I support Hamas? To which I say this. Until you've spent a lifetime under an oppressive regime, you are not qualified to ask that question. An ape can ask anything its puny brain fancies, but it's up to the human to decide whether the ape is worthy of a response. What do you think, by the way - colonizers can just keep coming as they please, to wipe their filthy feet on us like doormat, and we should do nothing - just stay quiet! For creatures who call themselves civilized, you guys have a weird sense of morality. Yet all these might not get through your thick binary skull, so let me put it to you bluntly. I don't stand with Hamas, I am Hamas, just like, I don't stand with Ukraine, I am Ukraine. Russia stops fighting, war ends - Ukraine stops fighting, Ukraine ends. Israel ends invasion, war ends - Palestine ends resistance, Palestine ends. However, I do have one problem here. Why do civilians have to die, if that is indeed the case - which I have no way of confirming, because news reports are not like reputed scientific data, that a scientist can naively trust. During humankind's gravest conflicts news outlets have always peddled a narrative benefiting the occupier and demonizing the resistance, either consciously or subconsciously. So never go by news reports, particularly on exception circumstances like this. No matter the cause, no civilian must die, that is my one unimpeachable law. But the hard and horrific fact of the matter is, only the occupier can put an end to the death and destruction peacefully - the resistance does not have that luxury.

When Israel strikes, it's "national security" - when Palestine strikes back, it's "terrorism". Just like over two hundred years ago when native americans resisted their homeland being stolen, it was called "Indian Attack". Or like over a hundred years ago when Indian soldiers in the British Army revolted against the empire, in defense of their homeland, it was called "Sepoy Mutiny". The narrative never changes - when the colonizer terrorizes the world, it's given glorious sounding names like "exploration" and "conquest", but if the oppressed so much as utters a word in resistance, it is branded as attack, mutiny and terrorism - so that, the real terrorists can keep on colonizing as the self-appointed ruler of land, life and morality, without ever being held accountable for violating the rights of what they deem second rate lifeforms, such as the arabs, indians, latinos and so on. After all this, some apes will still only be interested in one stupid question. Do I support Hamas? To which I say this. Until you've spent a lifetime under an oppressive regime, you are not qualified to ask that question. An ape can ask anything its puny brain fancies, but it's up to the human to decide whether the ape is worthy of a response. What do you think, by the way - colonizers can just keep coming as they please, to wipe their filthy feet on us like doormat, and we should do nothing - just stay quiet! For creatures who call themselves civilized, you guys have a weird sense of morality. Yet all these might not get through your thick binary skull, so let me put it to you bluntly. I don't stand with Hamas, I am Hamas, just like, I don't stand with Ukraine, I am Ukraine. Russia stops fighting, war ends - Ukraine stops fighting, Ukraine ends. Israel ends invasion, war ends - Palestine ends resistance, Palestine ends.

People often point to the London Metropolitan Police, who were formed in the 1820s by Sir Robert Peel,” Vitale said when we met. “They are held up as this liberal ideal of a dispassionate, politically neutral police with the support of the citizenry. But this really misreads the history. Peel is sent to manage the British occupation of Ireland. He’s confronted with a dilemma. Historically, peasant uprisings, rural outrages were dealt with by either the local militia or the British military. In the wake of the Napoleonic Wars, in the need for soldiers in other parts of the British Empire, he is having more and more difficulty managing these disorders. In addition, when he does call out the militia, they often open fire on the crowd and kill lots of people, creating martyrs and inflaming further unrest. He said, ‘I need a force that can manage these outrages without inflaming passions further.’ He developed the Peace Preservation Force, which was the first attempt to create a hybrid military-civilian force that can try to win over the population by embedding itself in the local communities, taking on some crime control functions, but its primary purpose was always to manage the occupation. He then exports that model to London as the industrial working classes are flooding the city, dealing with poverty, cycles of boom and bust in the economy, and that becomes their primary mission. “The creation of the very first state police force in the United States was the Pennsylvania State Police in 1905,” Vitale went on. “For the same reasons. It was modeled similarly on U.S. occupation forces in the Philippines. There was a back-and-forth with personnel and ideas. What happened was local police were unable to manage the coal strikes and iron strikes. . . . They needed a force that was more adherent to the interests of capital. . . . Interestingly, for these small-town police forces in a coal mining town there was sometimes sympathy. They wouldn’t open fire on the strikers. So, the state police force was created to be the strong arm for the law. Again, the direct connection between colonialism and the domestic management of workers. . . . It’s a two-way exchange. As we’re developing ideas throughout our own colonial undertakings, bringing those ideas home, and then refining them and shipping them back to our partners around the world who are often despotic regimes with close economic relationships to the United States. There’s a very sad history here of the U.S. exporting basically models of policing that morph into death squads and horrible human rights abuses.” The almost exclusive reliance on militarized police to deal with profound inequality and social problems is turning poor neighborhoods in cities such as Chicago into failed states. The “broken windows” policy, adopted by many cities, argues that disorder produces crime. It criminalizes minor infractions, upending decades of research showing that social dislocation leads to crime. It creates an environment where the poor are constantly harassed, fined, and arrested for nonsubstantive activities.

Han shook his head. Long ago he had told himself that females - mammalian, reptilian, or some biological class yet to be discovered - were beyond his meager powers of comprehension. Better leave them to mystery, he'd often advised himself.

It’s no surprise that many later analysts, in judging these and other actions and statements by Diem in the course of 1955, depicted him as a power-hungry and hypocritical autocrat, a reactionary mandarin, a pliant U.S. puppet, and nothing more. But this is insufficient. As recent scholarship has demonstrated, Diem was a modernizer of sorts, a man who had his own vision for Vietnam’s future and who sought to strike a balance between progress and Vietnam’s cultural traditions. “We are not going to go back to a sterile copy of the mandarin past,” Diem told journalist Marguerite Higgins. “We are going to adapt the best of our heritage to the modern situation.”15 Along with his brother and chief adviser Ngo Dinh Nhu, he embraced the ideology of personalism, which was rooted in the efforts of humanist Roman Catholic intellectuals in interwar France to find a third way to economic development, between liberal democracy and Communism. A key figure was philosopher Emmanuel Mounier, who expounded his ideas in books and in the journal Esprit. For Nhu, an intellectual and a graduate of France’s L’École des chartes, personalism’s emphasis on the value of community, rather than individualism, while at the same time avoiding the dehumanizing collectivism of socialism, held tremendous appeal and could complement the traditional concern of Vietnamese culture with social relationships.

Piett also knew, though, that a man who seized power was a man who knew never to let it go.

the New Order would become newer and newer, constantly revised and updated, containing less and less of substance and more and more of reaction, each new day’s ideology ready to denounce the last day’s thought as regressive backsliding.

On the shuttle, Darth Vader peered through a window at the monstrous assemblage. He thought, Even if it succeeds where the previous Death Star failed, it is an infant’s trinket compared to the power of the Force.

R2-D2 was more optimistic about the fate of their friends. For one thing, Lando could take care of himself pretty well. Also, the droid knew that Chewbacca hadn’t even arrived yet at Jabba’s palace, although he didn’t bother mentioning this detail to C-3PO. Sometimes, the less C-3PO knew, the better. The

Artoo, look!” C-3PO said. “Captain Solo. And he’s still frozen in carbonite.

The smelting droid lowered the branding irons again on the upside-down power droid’s feet, and again the power droid screeched. R2-D2, who’d visited many inhospitable places in his long lifetime, decided that Jabba’s palace was the absolute worst.

You weak-minded fool!” Jabba scowled. “He’s using an old Jedi mind trick.” Bib yelped as Jabba shoved him off the dais.

On the skiff, the captive trio stood close to one another behind a guard who was acting as lead lookout on the prow. Han squinted at the desert sky and said, “I think my eyes are getting better. Instead of a big dark blue, I see a big light blur.” “There’s nothing to see,” Luke said. “I used to live here, you know.” “You’re gonna die here, you know,” Han said. “Convenient.” “Just stick close to Chewie and Lando,” Luke said, scanning the desert before them. “I’ve taken care of everything.” Sounding very unconvinced, Han said, “Oh…great!

Luke lifted his gaze to R2-D2 on the barge’s deck, then gave the droid a jaunty salute. It was the signal R2-D2 had been waiting for. A panel slid back from the astromech’s domed head, revealing Luke’s concealed lightsaber. Luke’s original lightsaber had been lost during his duel with Darth Vader on Cloud City, but he’d constructed a new one on Tatooine. He’d already used it, and knew that it worked.

But I need your help. I’ve come back to complete the training.” “No more training do you require. Already know you that which you need,” Yoda sighed and settled back against his pillow. Luke looked away. “Then I am a Jedi.” “Ohhh,” Yoda said, then shook his head. “Not yet. One thing remains: Vader. You must confront Vader. Then, only then, a Jedi will you be. And confront him you will.

Approaching Ben’s spirit, Luke asked, “Why didn’t you tell me? You told me Vader betrayed and murdered my father.” “Your father was seduced by the dark side of the Force,” Ben answered. “He ceased to be Anakin Skywalker and became Darth Vader. When that happened, the good man who was your father was destroyed. So what I told was true…from a certain point of view.” “A certain point of view!” Luke repeated derisively. “Luke, you’re going to find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.” Ben’s spirit eased himself down to sit upon the length of a fallen tree. “Anakin was a good friend.

Maybe not, Luke thought. He said, “Yoda spoke of another.” Ben returned his gaze to Luke, studying him, trying to decide whether the young man was ready for another revelation, or if it were best for everyone if Luke remained ignorant. Ben made a decision, and said, “The other he spoke of is your twin sister.” Bewildered, Luke said, “But I have no sister.” “To protect you both from the Emperor, you were hidden from your father when you were born. The Emperor knew, as I did, if Anakin were to have any offspring, they would be a threat to him. That is the reason why your sister remains safely anonymous.” Incredibly, Luke was suddenly aware of his sister’s identity. “Leia! Leia’s my sister.” “Your insight serves you well,” Ben said. “Bury your feelings deep down, Luke. They do you credit. But they could be made to serve the Emperor.

While on Jabba’s barge, the astromech droid had penetrated the Hutt’s data system, and alerted the goons who’d remained in Jabba’s palace that the Imperials were coming for them with death warrants. The Imperial ships could hardly ignore the flotilla of smuggler ships, corsair gunboats, and slave transports that lifted off from the Hutt’s compound en masse; and in the battle that followed, they failed to notice the single X-wing starfighter and Corellian freighter that rose away from Tatooine by a more discreet route.

Vader’s on that ship,” Luke said. “Now don’t get jittery, Luke,” Han told him. “There are a lot of command ships. Keep your distance, though, Chewie, but don’t look like you’re trying to keep your distance.” Wondering how he should accomplish this tactic, Chewbacca barked a question to Han. “I don’t know,” Han replied. “Fly casual.

Remembering Han’s inclination to shoot first and ask questions later, Luke glared at his friend and stressed, “Quietly. There might be more of them out there.” Apparently surprised by Luke’s concern, Han grinned confidently and said, “Hey…it’s me.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about Ben, the Jedi Knight, who had served so briefly as Luke’s mentor in the ways of the Force. I still miss him, Luke thought. I wish I’d gotten to know him better on Tatooine, even though Uncle Owen would have tried to stop me. I could have learned so much.…

Don’t try to blame me,” C-3PO replied testily. “I didn’t ask you to turn on the thermal heater. I merely commented that it was freezing in the princess’s chamber.” R2-D2 rotated his domed head and responded with a defensive beep, prompting C-3PO to exclaim, “But it’s supposed to be freezing. How are we going to dry out all her clothes? I really don’t know.

A short distance away from him stood the shimmering, spectral form of Obi-Wan Kenobi. To make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, Luke said aloud, “Ben?” “You will go to the Dagobah system,” Ben said. “Dagobah system?” Luke repeated. I’m not hallucinating. I’m sure of it. “There you will learn from Yoda, the Jedi Master who instructed me.” Luke groaned as he tried not to go into shock. “Ben…Ben.

C-3PO ran as fast as he could. Han turned and shouted, “Hurry up, Goldenrod, or you’re going to be a permanent resident!

The Falcon’s engines fired. Han flashed a grin at Leia and said, “See?” Not impressed, Leia leaned forward in her seat and said, “Someday you’re going to be wrong, and I just hope I’m there to see it.

Han gave Leia a quick look. “You said you wanted to be around when I made a mistake; well, this could be it, sweetheart.” “I take it back,” Leia gasped. More asteroids raced past the cockpit. “We’re going to get pulverized if we stay out here much longer.

Darth Vader was not wearing his helmet. He sat facing away from Piett, who shivered at the sight of the back of Vader’s head; it was pale, hairless, and heavily scarred.

I’m not looking for a friend,” Luke said. “I’m looking for a Jedi Master.” The creature’s eyes went wide and his tapered ears dipped. “Oohhh, Jedi Master. Yoda. You seek Yoda.

From light-years away, on the planet Coruscant, the Emperor said, “There is a great disturbance in the Force.” “I have felt it,” Vader said. The Emperor continued, “We have a new enemy. The young Rebel who destroyed the Death Star. I have no doubt this boy is the offspring of Anakin Skywalker.” “How is that possible?” Darth Vader managed to ask through his shock. Could it be…true? “Search your feelings, Lord Vader. You will know it to be true. He could destroy us.

Ready, are you?” Yoda said, fixing Luke with a severe glare. “What know you of ready? For eight hundred years have I trained Jedi. My own counsel will I keep on who is to be trained! A Jedi must have the deepest commitment, the most serious mind.

He is too old,” Yoda replied. Before the fall of the Old Republic, Jedi began their training as infants— before they could know about fear and anger— and were raised at the Jedi Temple on the planet Coruscant. One rare exception had been Luke’s father, who’d been nine years of age when he’d arrived at the Jedi Temple. Yoda had been extremely reluctant to allow Luke’s father to become a Jedi, and given everything that had transpired, he was even more hesitant to teach Luke. Yoda added, “Yes, too old to begin the training.

Run!” Yoda said as he clung to Luke’s shoulders. “Yes. A Jedi’s strength flows from the Force. But beware of the dark side. Anger…fear…aggression. The dark side of the Force are they. Easily they flow, quick to join you in a fight. If once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny, consume you it will, as it did Obi-Wan’s apprentice.

All the bounty hunters listened as Darth Vader said, “There will be a substantial reward for the one who finds the Millennium Falcon. You are free to use any methods necessary, but I want them alive.” Vader extended a black-gloved finger at Boba Fett and stressed, “No disintegrations.

All right,” Luke said. “I’ll give it a try.” “No!” Yoda protested fiercely. “Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try.

Size matters not,” Yoda said. “Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? Mm?” Luke shook his head. “Mmmm,” Yoda murmured. “And well you should not. For my ally is the Force. And a powerful ally it is. Life creates it, makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us and binds us. Luminous beings are we…” He pinched Luke’s shoulder. “…not this crude matter.

As Han kept his eyes on the departing Star Destroyer, Leia touched his shoulder and said, “You do have your moments. Not many of them, but you do have them.” She kissed his cheek, then settled back into her seat.

Go on. Activate your lightsaber. The blue blade still looks so pure. Do you know I’m familiar with that particular weapon? The very one you’re holding? The one that Obi-Wan must have given you. No, I don’t believe you know that. Not yet.

If only you knew the power of the dark side,” Vader said, reaching out to clutch the air with his black-gloved fist. “Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father.” “He told me enough!” Luke said as he wrapped his arms around the sensor array and lowered his feet to a metal ring. Wincing, he added, “He told me you killed him.” “No,” Vader said, his fist still clenched. “I am your father.” Luke’s eyes went wide. My father? But Ben told me… “No,” Luke whimpered. “No. That’s not true! That’s impossible!” “Search your feelings,” Vader said. “You know it to be true.” “No!” Luke shouted. “No!

Even though Leia had already expressed her mistrust for Lando, and heard his talk of deals that would keep the Empire out of Cloud City, it was only upon seeing Lobot with the stormtroopers that she realized…Lando set us up! She looked at Lando, as did Han and Chewbacca. Lando looked Han square in the eye and said grimly, “I had no choice. They arrived right before you did. I’m sorry.

Leia called out, “I love you!” To which Han said, “I know.

The Force is with you, young Skywalker,” a deep voice rumbled from behind him, causing Luke to turn fast. “But you are not a Jedi yet.” It was Darth Vader.

Darth Vader sensed the change that swept over the pilot in the remaining X-wing. As Vader tried to lock onto the Rebel starfighter with his targeting computer, he said, “The Force is strong in this one!

The Falcon pulled out of its steep dive and Han said into his comm, “You’re all clear, kid. Now let’s blow this thing up and go home!

Great shot, kid,” Han said into his comm. “That was one in a million.” Luke let out a deep breath and relaxed. Then Ben’s voice said, “Remember, the Force will be with you…always.

Named must your fear be before banish it you can. —YODA, from Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back

The only scenes I can stand in any of the Star Wars films are the quiet scenes in the second one, The Empire Strikes Back. Or rather, it used to be the second one, before the fourth one became the first one, thus making the second one the third one.

When the snowspeeder endures for two minutes in Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, it wins the temporary invulnerability of “the Force” and the Star Wars theme plays, as it does when the cartridge first starts up. This rare musical treat effectively draws a connection to the Star Wars movies and also works effectively in the game, making the period of invulnerability even more heightened. The theme plays as sound effects from the game continue, too, so that it is integrated into the experience of play rather than interrupting it.

They were few, but they were hardened in fire. They had been cast out and many would hunger as he did: for a tribe, and for a chance to strike back at a world that had abandoned them. “It is begun here,” Temujin whispered. “I have had enough of hiding. Let them hide from me.

The writing part is always the hardest part of filmmaking. Almost anyone can direct—they won’t necessarily direct well, but the machinery works—you can take someone off the street and put them with an experienced crew and the movie will get made. But writing can’t be faked. It doesn’t run itself. It has to be worked out very specifically, word for word, image for image.

I’ve never really liked directing. I became a director because I didn’t like directors telling me how to edit, and I became a writer because I had to write something in order to be able to direct something. So I did everything out of necessity, but what I really like is editing.

George would come in and say, ‘Hey, we’re going to have this giant snow battle, start doing some storyboards,’ ” says Johnston. “But there was no script! But George would say, ‘Don’t worry about that, just do the storyboards.’ The process then was to lay out random shots and pick out some that would conceivably work. George would work on the script at home while I would be working on the boards.

When I’m supposed to be writing, I end up making up names,” says Lucas of the mercenary’s christening. “I have a couple of little books that are lists of names. Whenever I think of a name, whenever I’m in the shower, I’m with friends, or see a sign, I write it down in my little book. So when I have a new character, sometimes I’ll go down the list and pick a name out that seems to fit that particular character.

Named must your fear be before banish it you can.” —Yoda, from Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back

I found myself forgetting about Luke, who was standing there emoting all over the place, and watching the robot to see if its performance was going properly!” Kershner says. “That happened time and again, so I would have to pull myself back and concentrate on the actor. Without him, nothing was going to happen. But it’s hard to admit that my directing talent may be judged by the performance of an inanimate object.

Some people think of editing as the physical act of cutting,” Hirsch says. “But that’s a misconception. The French use the word montage for editing, which means ‘to build.’ And I think that is a more precise description.

I felt ridiculous,” Prowse says of Vader’s paternity revelation. “I thought I was saying one thing and here they have me saying another.

He has a rather fluid style,” says Hirsch, who was already cutting together scenes. “Not that he moves the camera all that much; he moves the camera at a certain moment through a scene and his staging of the action is fluid. Kersh doesn’t cover a scene in a simplistic way. He doesn’t shoot a master and then go in for close-ups. He will shoot mini masters that overlap at certain key points. It’s a subtle thing. He really knows what he’s doing.” “I stage differently from George; I use the camera differently,” says Kershner. “I use the actors in a different way. I certainly love his work but mine is just different. The photography is totally different, the lighting, the movement.

I fell one time,” Hamill says. “But I was able to tuck and roll like I was taught. I was later made a member of the British Stunt Union—not just a belt buckle, but a full membership.

While Prowse, given his penchant for revealing secrets, was kept in the dark, Hamill was debriefed by Lucas and then Kershner, who called over the actor not long before cameras rolled: “I met with Mark, and said, ‘Uh, you know that Darth Vader’s your father.’ ‘Wha—?’ ‘David Prowse will be saying stuff that doesn’t count, forget it. Use your own rhythm compared to what he’s doing.’ ” “They took me aside and said, ‘This is what he’s going to say,’ ” Hamill says. “ ‘You don’t know the truth, Obi-Wan killed your father.’ ” “I told Mark, ‘Don’t tell anybody—especially don’t tell David Prowse—but I want you to be able to know, to be able to act appropriately,’ ” Lucas says. “And then Kersh worked the scene with him.” “I love when Darth Vader says, ‘The only way you’ll ever beat me is with hate,’ ” Kershner says. “It’s a lie and the kids know it. The last thing Ben says is, ‘Remember, don’t use hate.’ It’s the most important thing in the film.

Williams has written a terrific Darth Vader Theme and it’s so villainous,” says Hamill. “I can already hear the audience booing and hissing.

Interviewed on the David Letterman show in October 1980, famed science-fiction writer Isaac Asimov exclaimed, “I enjoyed The Empire Strikes Back so much that when they finished it, I jumped up in my seat and yelled, ‘Start the third part!’ I figure at the rate they’re going, they’ll do the last few after I’m dead, which doesn’t strike me as fair.” (Asimov passed away in 1992.)