Gilbert Grape Quotes

A man who works all day, every day and loves each apple he uncrates, who cherishes each can of soup - a man like that surely puts us all to shame.

I have seen God and he is this girl.

How can you kill a man who'd already been dead for years?

In a cement park across the street is this giant sculpture. It is a giant umbrella frame lying on its side. It's green. Stand under it, during a rainstorm, you'll still get wet - that's why it's art.

I never want to regret. 'Regret' is the ugliest word.

No 'buts', Gilbert. You just make sense to me. It's nothing more special than that.

She loves me-she just doesn't know it yet.

He sees me through the glass. We both nod like we give a small shit about each other.

smiles and friendly nods are like fabric softeners for the face.

There is nothing more depressing than toast that no one eats.

Wait a minute, I'm thinking, was this another one of those conversations where what is meant and what is being said are not the same thing?

I was seven when he hung himself, and I don't remember all that much, and anything I did remember, I've managed to forget.

He loves to hide, but only if you take the time to find him. And while I suspect that's true for most people, only a retard or a kid would admit it.

Gilbert?" Some days I hate all those who know my name.

These eggs are broken. Cracked." "Yes, ma'am. That happens sometimes." "Does it?" "Yes, it's the unfortunate part of being an egg.

Yeah, some days you die.

You can tell the idyllic nature of a family by the upkeep of its picnic table. Ours is its own indictment. We are splintering and peeling. We rot.

Tucker is on a roll. It usually takes two beers for him to like himself but tonight he only needs half a can.

I'm told women scream when they give birth because of the intense pain. And I think about how easily life can just slide away, like thawing ice. And how it's only the living that scream.

She doesn't acknowledge Tucker, and there's no thank you for the cigarettes. She says a person shows their gratitude by action, not by words. So I guess that means she thanks me by smoking every cigarette in every pack.

The more Christian you are in this town, the more makeup you wear. I've always thought that it's because if you were to die suddenly, you'd look better for God.

The more Christian you are in this town, the more makeup you wear.

God forgives you your sins." I say right back, "And I forgive him his.

Anyway, they took her body to McBurney's Funeral Home in Motley. They'll be planting her tomorrow.

You're shrinking Gilbert, you're shrinking! Shrinking, shrinking, shrinking!

My sister is not an ugly woman. I don’t know if there’s a better person around.

I was fine till the finger, I say to myself, as I shift to reverse. You don't flip off Gilbert Grape. Let that be known.

My brother's costume is the exception. He looks like an American. In fact, he behaves like one. When he tried to pick up the first kid he knocked down, he smashed into several others, it snowballed, chaos ensued. My brother very much resembled America today in pretty much all things.

I devised a test. I turned off the TV and instantly the snoring stopped. She began to move. When I felt her eyes about to open, I turned the TV back on and back to sleep she went. Then I'd turn it off and on - sometimes for millisecond - and she never failed me. Each time it was off, she's move and mutter - each time it was on, she'd sleep. By the time the headlights from Amy's Nova turned into our driveway, my suspicion had been confirmed. My mother has a more intimate, connected relationship with this television than she has ever had with me.

It's supposed to go bing-bing or bong-bong or ding-ding when tires go over it. The one at Dave's stopped working several years ago, and he won't have it fixed because he feels as I do - that none of us need to be reminded we exist.

He looks like an American. In fact, he behaves like one. When he tried to pick up the first kid he knocked down, he smashed into several others, it snowballed, chaos ensued. My brother very much resembled America today in pretty much all things.

I stared at her - unable to accept that at one time I was growing inside her. I was once just a couple of cells. My father and my mother were naked something had to be satisfactory about it, because he came inside her and she got pregnant. She, like me, was once a baby in her mother's stomach and so on and so forth and so it goes. So it goes.

Who's calling?" "Don't insult me like that," the voice says. I stop. Was I just insulting?

A bad dream. You were having a bad dream." "Oh", I say. "Is that what I'm having?

People are usually pretty hungry after a funeral. I guess it's because we all realize that time is running out and we better eat all we can. Please don't mention that to my mother.

Some people have to live while others get to sit this living thing out.

I left this conversation hours ago, but somehow my mouth is still moving, words are still forming, and none have seemed to offend. Amazing, the mind. My mind, I mean. Not hers.

I could go at any time now.

Her name is unimportant and her face a visual sin.

Arnie pulls at my T-shirt. I shove his hand away. He pushes down the toilet handle and the bathroom fills with that flush sound. Tucker says, "You taking a dump?" "No." "Liar. I heard the flush. You were taking a dump." "But I..." "I just wish you'd admit it. We got to be honest with each other." "But..." "I heard the flush, Gilbert. You can't fool Tucker Van Dyke.

Chief pulls the car to a stop, remembering my favorite flavor, Wild Cherry Larry. Surprisingly, Bitsy claims her own Gilbert Grape, Mother opts for Spear-a-Mindy, and Chief goes for Lucky Duck Rainbow---a colorful concoction of blueberry, banana, and strawberry for the young at heart.

Alma wrote in depth about laurel, mimosa, and verbena. She wrote about grapes and camellias, about the myrtle orange, about the cosseting of figs, She published under the name "A. Whittaker." Neither she nor George Hawkes believed that it would much benefit Alma to announce herself in print as female. In the scientific world of the day, there was still a strict division between "botany" (the study of plants by men) and "polite botany" was often indistinguishable from "botany"- except that one field was regarded with respect and the other was not- but still, Alma did not wish to be shrugged off as a mere polite botanist. Of course, the Whittaker name was famous in the world of plants and science, so a good number of botanists already knew precisely who "A. Whittaker" was. Not all of them, however. In response to her articles, then, Alma sometimes received letters from botanists around the world, sent to her in care of George Hawkes's print shop. Some of these letters began, "My dear Sir." Other letters were written to "Mr. A. Whittaker." One quite memorable missive even came addressed to "Dr. A. Whittaker." ( Alma kept that letter for a long time, tickled by the unexpected honorific.)

What’s eating Gilbert Grape?