Fairbanks Quotes

At thirteen desperately watching TV, curling my long legs under me, desperately reading books, callow adolescent that I was, trying (desperately!) to find someone in books, in movies, in life, in history, to tell me it was O.K. to be ambitious, O.K. to be loud, O.K. to be Humphrey Bogart (smart and rudeness), O.K. to be James Bond (arrogance), O.K. to be Superman (power), O.K. to be Douglas Fairbanks (swashbuckling), to tell me self-love was all right, to tell me I could love God and Art and Myself better than anything on earth and still have orgasms.

There’s a Douglas Fairbanks picture at the Strand. A swashbuckler. You love those.” Evie closed one eye. “You’re telling me not to lose hope because there are pirate pictures?” “I’m trying here, Baby Vamp. When you’re facing evil, a good pirate picture doesn’t hurt.

Mo chuisle? It means ‘my pulse.’ I never quite understood it before, what it meant to have another person be the d-driving force behind the pump of your blood, but it’s true. Lark, your smile saved me like an emergency transfusion. Your laugh is the song my every blood cell dances to. Your touch revived me from darkness. You are my pulse. You make me feel alive even when I’m surrounded by death.

Who are you, and what have you done with Callum Flannelly?” “Lark, I’m more myself with you than anywhere else.

You don’t need to pretend. I want to share in your happiness and in your sorrow.

We show the people we love the ugliest parts of ourselves, and we tell them the truth even when it hurts, because that’s what intimacy is.

Tragedy made me appreciate serendipity even more.

The greatest compliments I’ve ever received were complaints from readers that I made them stay up all night reading.

Books are the safest and greatest mind-altering substances in the world. But be safe; don't read and drive.

You deserve a little graveyard smash.

Yesterday is history, Tomorrow is a mystery, and today is a gift. To handle yourself, use your head, To handle others, use your heart. What would life be if we had not courage to attempt anything? When the going gets tough, the tough get going.

Liang Qichao came away disappointed. American democracy seemed to spawn "mediocre politicians, corruption, disorder, racism, imperialism". "In short," noted the late J K Fairbank, most prolific and influential of America's sinologists, "he got our number, and it turned him off.

You’ve been telling yourself lies for too long, darlin’. It’s time to un-learn them.

Callum had become my haven … and I had become his. It snuck up on me, unplanned and unforeseen, but that didn’t make it any less true.

I feel safe with you, Cal.

Tradition is important, but so is personal agency.

Lark was beautiful. And not only objectively, based on facial geometry or social consensus. Beautiful to me. Utterly captivating.

Lark selected a table near the stage. I’d have preferred to sit further back. Hell, I’d have preferred to be at home, but had promised myself that I’d make an effort.

A pinch wouldn’t wake me up from this. And if it did, I’d be back in Fairbanks, living in my dad’s basement. Where would you be if I punched you, Samantha?

There was Mary Pickford, who called Frances “the pillar of my career,” for she had written Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, Pollyanna, A Little Princess, and a dozen more of Pickford’s greatest successes. Frances was also her best friend and had seen her through her divorce from Owen Moore and marriage to Douglas Fairbanks; Frances and Mary had even honeymooned with their new husbands together in Europe. Irving Thalberg was the “boy genius of Hollywood,” but Frances called him “my rock of Gibraltar” and he was the only man in the room whose opinion she truly valued and respected. He in turn “adored her and trusted her completely.

But then, six months ago, my dad hauled me with him to this shaddy town in Alaska. Seward Peninsula, just below Arctic Circle? And then, middle of May—we flew to Fairbanks on a prop plane, and then we came here.

And miss all the moments that send the butterflies loose in your stomach? No way. First date, first kiss, first slow dance. Popping the question and hearing yes. The falling matters, too. Not just the ever after.

The simple facts of Mao’s career seem incredible: in a vast land of 400 million people, at age 28, with a dozen others, to found a party and in the next fifty years to win power, organize, and remold the people and reshape the land–history records no greater achievement. Alexander, Caesar, Charlemagne, all the kings of Europe, Napoleon, Bismarck, Lenin–no predecessor can equal Mao Tse-tung’s scope of accomplishment, for no other country was ever so ancient and so big as China. Indeed Mao’s achievement is almost beyond our comprehension.

You think I don’t have regrets? Charlie and I lost years together because of my own pride. We show our partners the ugliest parts of ourselves, and we tell them the truth even when it hurts, because that’s what intimacy is.

China is able to feed 23 percent of the world’s population from 7 percent of the arable land—“by crowding some 2,000 human beings onto each square mile of cultivated earth in the valleys and flood plains,” as Fairbank points out.

We'd caught a commuter flight from there to Philadelphia, and from there to Seattle and now Fairbanks. It reminded me a little of the crazy flights I'd had to take from Siberia back to the U.S. That journey had also gone via Seattle. I was starting to believe that city was a gateway to obscure places.

You know what we need?" I was sitting between Eddie and Lissa, on our flight from Seattle to Fairbanks. As the shortest-marginally-and the mastermind, I'd gotten stuck with the middle seat. "A new plan?" asked Lissa. "A miracle?" asked Eddie. I paused and glared at them both before responding. Since when had they become the comedians here?

Regardless of shared DNA, I refused to think of him as “Dad.

Rehearsing the words in my head over and over, I practiced my order. Interactions with strangers always spiked my blood pressure.

You know … the body bags. What are they for?” “Bodies,” I answered, not understanding the question.

You make me want. I’ve never wanted anyone like this,

I will put you in your grave with a smile on my face if you say another word about that woman who is a hundred times your equal.

And she’s introduced more joy into my life than I could imagine.

He’s hot in a ‘Damien Rice song’ kinda way.

Touch yourself. Show me how you like it.

If making a fool out of myself made her smile, I’d do it every day. To hell with my dignity.

I thought y’all were super-hospitable to foreigners. ‘Land of a thousand welcomes,’ right?” I snorted. “I’m in the business of goodbyes, not hellos.

What I would endure personally and what I would tolerate on behalf of others were two different things.

But all we can control is how we choose to move through life. With honesty. With bravery. With love. I know you can do it.

— Nós mostramos às pessoas que amamos as partes mais feias de nós e dizemos a verdade a elas mesmo quando dói, porque é isso que significa ter intimidade.

You’ve kept a list of baby names in your Notes app for years.

- Você saiu com cartas de merda no jogo da vida. Às vezes isso acontece com as melhores pessoas. Não significa que você não mereça ser amada.

And people who have a moon in Scorpio means they keep a drawbridge around themselves. Impenetrable unless they choose to trust. When they let someone in, it awakens a sense of deep loyalty.

Mas porque nenhuma outra cidade na Terra era o lar de Callum Flannelly. Nenhum lugar poderia ser chamado de lar sem ele. A percepção me atingiu na cabeça como uma marreta de madeira da Acme.

Each piece of the set was on a winch and pulley, bag-dropped, counterbalanced by nests of fifty-pound bags of sand. The setup was called a "Fairbanks," for the reason that when a stagehand so wanted, he could stand upon a knot on the rope, untie as few or as many bags of sand as he wanted, and ride nearly to the rafters like Zorro as the scenery lowered. There was no particular reason to ride that way, but because Carter allowed it, the team of men did so all night long, trading places at the top, jumping onto the ropes and riding back down later. With the mighty Egyptian set descending in its many pieces, the audience was deprived of a behind-the-scenes tableau of beauty: Carter's team swiftly riding ropes up to the catwalk and down to the stage again, simply because they could.

Classic. Contemplative Cancer.” How the hell? “Run a background check on me, didya then?” “Pfft. I just did the math. Besides, this”—Lark gestured to my entire form—“screams crustacean. I had you pegged as a water sign from the first time we met.” “I don’t believe in that. And refrain from suggesting you’ve pegged me, please.” “Would you let me run your natal chart? You’re a Scorpio moon, I bet.

I was an engineer with Fairbanks Morse, Mr. President. I helped design some of the engines in their locomotives before the war, but then transferred my knowledge to the engines used in the Grant and Lee tanks, many of which were sent to the British.” FDR was once again intrigued by what he heard. “The engine that pulls my train is a Fairbanks Morse locomotive.” Brock beamed. “Yes it is, sir. Engine 978.

I mean to tell you, the Law's notion of justice is more cold-blooded than any outlaw I ever knew. And I mean 'outlaw,' not criminal. 'Criminal' doesn't distinguish between guys like men and the guys who own the banks and insurance companies and stock markets, who own the factories and coal mines and oil fields, who own the goddamn Law. I once said to John that being an outlaw was about the only way left for a man to hold on to his self-respect, and he said Ain't that the sad truth. The girls laughed along with us because they knew it wasn't a joke.... John got the publicity because he loved it ... he carried on like the whole thing was an adventure movie and he was Douglas Fairbanks. He wanted to to be a 'star.' That's how he was. Not me. I never even liked having my picture taken. All I ever wanted was to show the bastards who own the law that it didn't mean they owned me.

Bingley prowled his library like a caged animal. The rain separating him from Jane imprisoned him in the house, creating his own personal hell. His sisters worked themselves into a frenzy over the ball, his brother-in-law consoled himself with increasing amounts of drink, and Darcy stared into space with a small smile on his lips. He wondered if the world had turned upside down if Darcy was the besotted man, smiling too much while he grumbled over every detail.

While I lived with my master in St. Michael's, there was a white young man, a Mr. Wilson, who proposed to keep a Sabbath school for the instruction of such slaves as might be disposed to learn to read the New Testament. We met but three times, when Mr. West and Mr. Fairbanks, both class-leaders, with many others, came upon us with sticks and other missiles, drove us off, and forbade us to meet again. Thus ended our little Sabbath school in the pious town of St. Michael's.

— Eu não sabia que podia machucar tanto se importar com alguém. — Você está passando por um luto — disse Deirdre enquanto oferecia uma xícara fumegante; eu a aceitei com gratidão. — Perder sua amizade. O futuro que você visualizou. É uma forma válida de luto.

It is a painful irony that silent movies were driven out of existence just as they were reaching a kind of glorious summit of creativity and imagination, so that some of the best silent movies were also some of the last ones. Of no film was that more true than Wings, which opened on August 12 at the Criterion Theatre in New York, with a dedication to Charles Lindbergh. The film was the conception of John Monk Saunders, a bright young man from Minnesota who was also a Rhodes scholar, a gifted writer, a handsome philanderer, and a drinker, not necessarily in that order. In the early 1920s, Saunders met and became friends with the film producer Jesse Lasky and Lasky’s wife, Bessie. Saunders was an uncommonly charming fellow, and he persuaded Lasky to buy a half-finished novel he had written about aerial combat in the First World War. Fired with excitement, Lasky gave Saunders a record $39,000 for the idea and put him to work on a script. Had Lasky known that Saunders was sleeping with his wife, he might not have been quite so generous. Lasky’s choice for director was unexpected but inspired. William Wellman was thirty years old and had no experience of making big movies—and at $2 million Wings was the biggest movie Paramount had ever undertaken. At a time when top-rank directors like Ernst Lubitsch were paid $175,000 a picture, Wellman was given a salary of $250 a week. But he had one advantage over every other director in Hollywood: he was a World War I flying ace and intimately understood the beauty and enchantment of flight as well as the fearful mayhem of aerial combat. No other filmmaker has ever used technical proficiency to better advantage. Wellman had had a busy life already. Born into a well-to-do family in Brookline, Massachusetts, he had been a high school dropout, a professional ice hockey player, a volunteer in the French Foreign Legion, and a member of the celebrated Lafayette Escadrille flying squad. Both France and the United States had decorated him for gallantry. After the war he became friends with Douglas Fairbanks, who got him a job at the Goldwyn studios as an actor. Wellman hated acting and switched to directing. He became what was known as a contract director, churning out low-budget westerns and other B movies. Always temperamental, he was frequently fired from jobs, once for slapping an actress. He was a startling choice to be put in charge of such a challenging epic. To the astonishment of everyone, he now made one of the most intelligent, moving, and thrilling pictures ever made. Nothing was faked. Whatever the pilot saw in real life the audiences saw on the screen. When clouds or exploding dirigibles were seen outside airplane windows they were real objects filmed in real time. Wellman mounted cameras inside the cockpits looking out, so that the audiences had the sensation of sitting at the pilots’ shoulders, and outside the cockpit looking in, allowing close-up views of the pilots’ reactions. Richard Arlen and Buddy Rogers, the two male stars of the picture, had to be their own cameramen, activating cameras with a remote-control button.

Die? That is the last thing I shall do!

It" is the idea of him or her that resides in us--inspired by the "Something" in them, as Pope has it, "That gives us back the Image of our Mind." Although the perception of It must be excited by some extraordinary perturbation in the looks and personality of the adored, the aura that It broadcasts arises not merely from the singularity of an original, as Walter Benjamin supposed, but also from the fabulous success of its reproducibility in the imaginations of many others, charmed exponentially by the number of its copies. The one-of-kind item must become a type, a replicable role-icon of itself--from "a Charles Hart" or "a Nell Gwyn" to "a Mary Pickford" or "a Douglas Fairbanks"--in order to unleash the Pygmalion effect in the hearts and minds of the fans, making the idea of him or her theirs--as much or more than anything else they might call their own.

Finally, while I don’t want to disparage the traditional novel--I still prefer Dickens’s Great Expectations over Kathy Acker’s Great Expectations, though I’ll take Lauren Fairbanks’s Sister Carrie over Dreiser’s any day--there’s a whole other world of novels out there most people never even hear of, much less read. Let’s go see.

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The concept of failure is central to the design process, and it is by thinking in terms of obviating failure that successful designs are achieved. ... Although often an implicit and tacit part of the methodology of design, failure considerations and proactive failure analysis are essential for achieving success. And it is precisely when such considerations and analyses are incorrect or incomplete that design errors are introduced and actual failures occur.

A man laid to rest clutching a screen-accurate replica lightsaber, to the sound of a John Williams score.

Maybe just once.” I smiled. “Get it out of our systems.

I’ve run hot and cold on you. Gave you mixed signals. I freaked out and abandoned you after you poured your heart out. Cal, I’m so sorry.

Reality is brutal. Fiction offers a lens through which to understand others, catharsis.

Lark used Guilt Trip. It’s very effective,

For the first time in twenty-nine years, I was alone. By choice … but still.

Anything she wanted. Anything I could give.

No one could make me forget about Lark in a million years.

she didn’t make me feel alive like Lark did.

she didn’t make me feel alive like Lark did. Challenged and curious and … optimistic for the first time in decades.

Then you moved in next door and … now I feel hopeful. Maybe for the first time. You wrecked my comfort zone.

That’s my girl.

The song was right: life was quite absurd. Because as he’d sung, I realized I was in love with Callum Flannelly.

What would Dolly do?

Tell me if you want to stop.” “Touch me before I lose my mind.

Everything else fell away. Nothing remained but Lark and the intimacy we shared.

I bit back a groan, imagining peeling her knickers off with my teeth.

I am lucky. To have you.

You take care of me. More than you know.

Who knew the reaper had such a pretty scythe?

You’re perfect.

When I filled her, she filled me with awe. Until there was no room for loneliness. Only Lark. Only us. Only these perfect moments.

To love was to accept risk.

You needed me,” she said simply. “Of course I came.

You look exquisite.

I had you pegged as a water sign from the first time we met.” “I don’t believe in that. And refrain from suggesting you’ve pegged me, please.

Sometimes we get upset when someone passes on. Raging mad. That’s normal, being angry when we lose someone we care about, not just sad.

You’re more of a softie than you realize.

I’m just glad to have you here with me tonight. Thank you for being so thoughtful.

All I could think about was tugging her down onto the garment-covered bed, tumbling over the heap of clothing and kissing her dizzy.

She centered me, even when slightly off-kilter herself.

Never one to crave attention, it suited me … but Lark made me exposed as a body on the prep table. And I wanted her to see me.

Cheeky little thief.

I never wanted to go back to being only friends.

But you—you, Lark—deserve love. Healing. No matter what happened before, I think your husband would agree with me. Promise me you’ll stop running, and let someone in.

Somewhere along the line, I’d fallen in love with her. Fuck. I loved Lark Thompson. There was no use denying it to myself when this woman’s every emotion inspired such soul-deep empathy.

Did I need to breathe? Oxygen was inconsequential compared to her bliss.

Chinese communism lies the world’s longest tradition of successful autocracy.

all great achievements carry the seeds of their ossification.

The smart guess matters to leaders now more than ever precisely because they face such a deluge of data—often with no clear map of what it portends for the future. As Richard Fairbank, CEO at Capital One, put it, “Finding a visionary strategy you believe as a leader is a very intuitive thing. There are many things a leader can’t predict using data. How do you know what you will need to have in three years? Yet you’ve got to start development now or you won’t have it when you need it. Our company hires brilliant data analysts; we have one of the biggest Oracle databases in the world. But at the end of the day, I find that all the data does is push us out farther on the frontier where it’s uncertain all over again.

There’s so much sadness in this world, and you seem to always be spreading joy through it.

Dad] would take a McDonald’s straw, cut it, put it in each nostril and [snort] just about every fifteen minutes for three or four days at a time,” Shooter recalled. Seeing their only child together sticking a used one up his nose became both the proverbial and literal last straw for Jessi Colter.4

I craved her light like a houseplant languishing in a dark corner.