Josh Bridges Quotes

In the simple moral maxim the Marine Corps teaches — do the right thing, for the right reason — no exception exists that says: unless there's criticism or risk. Damn the consequences.

I'm here." St. Clair is angry. "I'm just sorry I'm not there. With you. I wish there was something I could do." "Wanna come beat her up for me?" "I'm packing my throwing stars right now." I sniffle and wipe my nose. "I'm such an idiot. I can't believe I thought he liked me.That's the worst part, knowing he was never even interested." "Bollocks.He was interested." "No,he wasn't," I say. "Bridge said so." "Because she's jealous! Anna, I was there that first night he called you. I've seen how he looked at you in pictures." I protest,but he interrupts. "Any bloke with a working prick would be insane not to like you." There's a shocked pause,on both ends of the line. "Because,of course,of how intelligent you are. And funny.Not that you aren't attractive.Because you are. Attractive. Oh,bugger..." I wait. "Are you still there,or did you hang up because I'm such a bleeding idiot?" "I'm here." "God,you made me work for that." St. Clair said I'm attractive.That's the second time. "You're so easy to talk to," he continues, "that sometimes I forget you're not one of the guys." Scratch that. He thinks I'm Josh. "Just drop it. I can't take being compared to a guy right now-" "That's not what I meant-" "How's your mom? I'm sorry, I've hogged ur entire conversation,and this was supposed to be about her,and I didn't even ask-" "You did ask. It was the first thing you said when you answered. And technically I called you. And I was calling to see how the show went, which is what we've been talking about.

He comes down next to me, and when I hold out my hand, he takes it. Our fingers lace together. And in that feeling, that perfect feeling of our hands and fingers pressed together, I want to tell him everything. I want to tell him about Josh, and his sister, Emily. I want to tell him about tall, crazy Gert. I want to tell him about bridges and funerals, and most of all, maps. More than anything else, I want to tell him about myself. I want to tell him that I know what things look like from above now. There's so much I want to tell him, because I know he'll understand.

She dreamed of bridges upside down on the forest floor, as if whatever walked upon them went places nobody had imagined.

I jumped off a bridge in Italy, is that culturally insensitive? Is saying 'mamma mia' culturally insensitive?

There was something else amusing about the house: the irony that the most important battle of the American Revolution--the shoot-out at the Old North Bridge--had taken place just outside the residence of the pacifist Ralph Waldo Emerson. True, Emerson was born after the battle in 1803, but his grandfather had been living in the house at the time of the Revolution, and the juxtaposition of such pacifism against such violence struck Paul as a symbol of an eternal truth about American history: Nixon, that goofy Vietnam War mortician, was right: the silent majority ruled (not the rebellious, pacifist fringe); the majority killed for their property; and there was nothing really revolutionary about the minutemen , who won a war and took over the entire country to ultimately build fast-food restaurants and Disneyland while abolitionists, pacifists, hippies, and environmentalists were left to make well-intended flatulent noises--to write poems such as Ginsberg's "Howl"--in books for other defeated noisemakers.

They’re coming!” Josh yelled. Like a whirlwind the twins rushed downstairs, where Peter was waiting. With Wally bringing up the rear they all went outside. The two older Malloy sisters, wearing jeans and long shirts down to their knees, were walking arm in arm across the swinging bridge, leaning on each other, like two girls who had more sadness than they could possibly bear, Wally thought. As they came closer, the Hatford brothers pretended to be looking down the road, at the sky, anywhere, in fact, except at the Malloys. “Ask!” Jake whispered to Josh. “You ask!” said Josh. “You always try to make me do it.” “Wally, you do it,” said Jake. “Why me? What the heck am I supposed to say?” The girls had reached the middle of the narrow bridge now and, still walking side by side, held on to the cable handrails as the bridge bounced slightly beneath their weight. “If one of us doesn’t ask, Peter will,” Josh warned. “He’ll say something dumb, like ‘Have you buried anyone lately?’” “I will not!” snapped Peter.

By the twentieth century, however, archaeological discoveries had confirmed the accuracy of the New Testament manuscripts. Early papyri manuscripts (the John Rylands manuscript, AD 130; the Chester Beatty Papyri, AD 155; and the Bodmer Papyri II, AD 200) bridged the gap between the time of Christ and existing manuscripts from later dates.

What did you do?” Josh screamed. “I kept hitting her, and hitting her, and hitting her with this frying pan. I don't think you'll be able to recognize her now. I messed her up pretty bad.” “You killed my wife?” “Yes, she’s dead all right, several times over.” “If I get my hands on you....“ Justin interrupted, “I'm glad we had that talk on the bridge. When I left your place, I was feeling pretty down after you tried to help me, but then I remembered what you said, and I felt a whole lot better. Like you said, there might be five hundred women in North Dakota you can fall in love with and thousands everywhere else. Now I don't feel so guilty about battering Jessica’s head into a pulp. I knew your philosophy would get you through this small bump in the road.” Now Josh was crying and thinking about the bridge himself. “After all,” Justin said with a smirk. Who gives a fuck about Jessica when there are so many other fish in the sea? Right. Josh?” Justin hung up, and Josh redialed several times, but no one answered.

Josh pinches the bridge of his nose, looking like he wants to die.

The boys groaned as Peter stopped in the middle of the bridge again, his head thrown back, and tried to collect snowflakes on his tongue. Finally he reached the other side and slowly made his way up the hill to the Malloy house, taking two steps up the steep slope of their back lawn, sliding one step back, taking two steps more, sliding one step back, before he disappeared in the snow and fog. An hour went by. An hour and fifteen minutes. An hour and a half. “What could he be doing over there?” groaned Josh. “What’d he do, take a suitcase? Is he moving in?

The city’s skyline beheld from the Champlain Bridge at midday evoked in him a sentiment of unqualified ignorance—it seemed to laugh at the size and purpose of him.

She looked at me tiredly. “I bet you wish you would have kicked the tires before falling for this hot mess.” She smiled weakly. “Aren’t you glad I saved you from yourself?” I shook my head. “No, that’s not how that works, Kristen. Love is for better or worse. It’s always and no matter what. The no-matter-what just happened first for us.” Her eyes teared up and she pressed her lips together. “I miss you.” My throat got tight. “Then be with me, Kristen. Right now. We can move in together, today. Sleep in the same bed. Just say okay. That’s all you have to say. Just say okay.” I wanted it so badly my heart felt like it was screaming. I wanted to shake her, kidnap her and hold her hostage until she stopped this crap. But she shook her head. “No.” I let go of her hand and leaned away from her against the door, my fingers to the bridge of my nose. “You’re killing both of us.” “One day—” “Stop talking to me about one day.” I turned to her. “I’m never going to feel differently about this.” She waited a beat. “Neither am I.” We sat in silence for a moment, and I closed my eyes. I felt her move across the seat, and then her body was pressed against my side. I wrapped an arm around her and let her tuck her head under my chin. The feel of her was therapeutic. I think it was for both of us. A warm compress for my soul. I’d never had all of her at once. I’d only ever gotten pieces. Her friendship without her body. Her body without her love. And now her love without any of the rest of it. But even with what little fragments I’d had, it was enough to tell me I would never stop chasing all of her. Never. Not if I lived to be a hundred. She was it. She just was. “Kristen, you’re the woman I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with,” I whispered. “I know it in my fucking soul.” She sniffed. “I know it too, Josh. But that was before.” “Before what?” I wrapped my arms around her tighter, tears pricking my eyes. “Before I broke inside. Before my body made me wrong for you. Sometimes soul mates don’t end up together, Josh. They marry other people. They never meet. Or one of them dies.” I squeezed my eyes shut and felt the lump in my throat get bigger. Just to have her admit it, to have her acknowledge that’s what we were to each other, was the most validating thing she’d ever given me.

Colby was a veteran of the OSS’s legendary Jedburghs, a group of spies recruited to parachute behind enemy lines in the early years of World War II and wreak havoc, organizing resistance and blowing up roads and bridges. The Jedburgh motto was “Surprise, kill, and vanish,” and Colby was perfect in the role.