Johnny Rose Quotes

all I can think of is Jack Nicholson in The Shining, grinning at us and announcing, here's Johnny. Well here's Sloane, motherfucker.

The smell of cigarette smoke in the air in a tavern that changes names often, a bar cursed because of a girl who died of a drug overdose in the basement, we put a few coins in the jukebox; chose “Angel Band” by Johnny Cash and sat down at the bar, ordered a soda, you wanted a whiskey on the rocks. We saw the coal miner who moved here from West Virginia knocking back liquor like I drink sweet tea. No one asked why he was so solemn today. It was warm. It was relatively quiet. To anyone else, this place could feel sinister. But to us, it was freedom. It was a hiding place. No one was ever here long enough to know us. And we liked it that way.

I smelt him, smelt Johnny; for a second I thought - what? That he was there, was with me, that he wasn't...But I realised it was his perfume, the one I'd had made specially for him by an artisan perfumer in New York, his own custom-made one-off blend. It had been hideously expensive but I hadn't cared as long as it had pleased him. It was all intense essential oils, layer upon layer of labdanum, patchouli, vanilla, vetiver, ambrette, frankincense, myrrh, amber, Bulgarian rose absolute, Oud wood - the list was endless and beautiful, like a scented prayer. The woman had said some of the ingredients would keep their fragrance for a hundred years, would never die. Like me, he'd said, like us. I'd put some drops of the heavy dark oil on a couple of cotton wool pads and put them in the box when we got it, now the fragrance - strange, narcotic, archaic - filled the room like his ghost, embracing me in memories.

The important thing is that Mr. Simmons he receives the flowers. Flowers are beautiful. Mister Simmons is a gentleman and he will enjoy them. That he should know where they came from that is quite beside the point. I know that I have expressed my gratitude with something beautiful. I know that I have tried to repay him for the splendid things he has done for me. It is not important that Mr. Simmons he should know it. It is only important that he should receive the roses yes?

And the man rose and put a foot upon it and, raising his face to the heavens, voiced a horrid cry —the victory cry of the bull ape. Corrie was suddenly terrified of this man who had always seemed so civilized and cultured. Even the men were shocked. Suddenly recognition lighted the eyes of Jerry Lucas. "John Clayton," he said, "Lord Greystoke— Tarzan of the Apes!" Shrimp's jaw dropped. "Is dat Johnny Weissmuller?" he demanded.

The dialogue Tommy composed for the flower shop scene, which flies back and forth like some sort of postmodern 'Who's on First?' sketch, has the super-compresed density of experimental verse: Hi Can I help you Yeah can I have a dozen roses please Oh hi Johnny I didn't know it was you here you go That's me how much is it That'll be eighteen dollars Here you go keep the change hi doggie You're my favorite customer Thanks a lot bye Bye bye

The sun rose. Flowers bloomed. People even continued to talk to me as if I weren't a complete failure, as if they didn't know or possibly -- unthinkably -- didn't care. Life went on. I think that's when I realized that it's all bullshit.

Ma and Aunt Rose are in the kitchen. Johnny and Papa are watching TV.” “Hockey?” She hung her coat on the hall tree. “No, synchronized swimming. Of course, hockey. They’re watching the pregame stuff; you know, the male version of Oprah.” They walked through the empty living room and into the dining room. Rosalie gave herself a mental head slap. She should have asked Nick to tape the game for her. “Yeah, I like the part where Dr. Phil discusses their feelings about the fight in last night’s game. Stay tuned for a very special Sports Talk—The Cause of Unnecessary Roughness.

another ship passed them, moving steadily against the current. Johnny was so angry he almost wept. “Look at that, sirl Look! What’s the matter with us? How can that one pass us?” “She’s in ballast and riding high,” Nat explained "sail, ho-o-o-oo!” 147 wearily. "Her topsails and royals are catching a breeze that’s too high for us.” After one week, the men were hollow-eyed, staggering with weariness. A smart breeze rose abaft the beam. They were almost too tired to cheer, but not too tired to get the Astrea under way in jig time. The wind

seems to have quite a stash of gold coins. Isn’t that interesting, Jack?” she said, that long sly grin spreading across her broad face. She gave him a wink as he headed out the door. “Most interesting,” Jack said, tucking the information into his brain. Jack was putting a lot of things together, and they added up to trouble. The banker, Feemster, and his big mouth told Jack about the mine payroll, even when it was leaving Elko. “If he told me,” Jack said to Cactus, “how many other people did he tell?” The Elko County Sheriff, Cyrus Simpson, wanted to own lots of property in The Meadows but doesn’t assign a deputy to the area. “Is that why Melissa Thompson was having difficulty with her property sale? What is the sheriff’s game?” Jack’s mind continued rambling at a high lope. Irene told him about Clint Bayliss spending lots of money even though the fool couldn’t keep a job. “If you robbed a payroll, would you start spending that money wildly?” he asked Cactus Jack. “I don’t know yet how I’m going to prove it, but I’d be willing to bet that Bayliss was behind that mine payroll robbery. This meeting might get very interesting, Cactus Jack, my friend,” he said as they walked into a packed barn. “Looks like at least fifty people,” he said, wending his way toward where Paddock was seated, near the front. Chairs and benches were set up in a semi-circle, almost in a horseshoe pattern, and just about every space was filled when Valley Paddock rose and turned to the audience. “For most of us,” he began, “this is the first time that we have all been together, and I’m certainly glad that so many of us have turned out for this important gathering. Our little community, the town with so many names,” and there was genuine laughter at that, “has many problems and those that want to run Elko County don’t give a hoot about us.

Davey Lopes, Johnny Bench, George Foster, Pete Rose, Joe Morgan, Dave Concepcion, Tony Perez, Ken Griffey, Cesar Geronimo, with Sparky Anderson behind the bench. I think

I've seen that look before. That misty eyed 'I'm thinking about a boy' look plastered all over your face. It's the one Baby wore when she first saw Johnny; when Jack saw Rose; when Maria saw Tony and Tony saw Maria.

As we slowly made our way toward the front door of the farmhouse, the radio in the dining room began playing “Danny Boy,” sung by Johnny Cash. I am not sure that anyone other than God himself could have arranged the sweet sorrow of that moment. Johnny Cash was my favorite singer. “Danny Boy,” emblematic of our long-held Scots-Irish heritage of military service, is perhaps the greatest song ever written about the painful anguish of a father watching helplessly as his son marches off to war. Oh, Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling From glen to glen and down the mountain side The summer’s gone and all the roses falling ’Tis you, ’tis you, must go and I must bide. But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow ’Tis I’ll be here, in sunshine or in shadow Oh, Danny Boy, oh, Danny Boy I love you so. It was the only time I ever saw my father cry.

The weighty sound of Skinripper’s doom metal rose from the basement. The slow, tuned-down heaviness shook the floorboards. Gretchen couldn’t make out all the growled lyrics, but she made out the word “crepuscular.” No idea what it meant, but damn if that wasn’t the metalest word she’d ever heard. She walked into the kitchen, ripped some paper towel off the roll, stuck it in her ears, and opened the door to the basement. The power of the big arena sound almost knocked her backward. Skinripper was a power trio. Amanda “Louder” Lauden on drums. Jose “Pepe” Marrero on bass. Which left Gretchen’s brother Kurt “No Nickname” Ucker on guitar and vocals. One hundred decibels of plodding dread that sounded like Chewbacca in a suit of armor slowly falling down a staircase. In a good way.

Mrs. Catchpole broke off abruptly, returning Pickett's limpid gaze with eyes narrowed in suspicion. Oh, I see what you're about, Johnny! You're trying to pull my leg! Pickett, who could think of few pastimes which held less appeal, suppressed a shudder at the mental image which rose to his brain.