Jurassic Park 3 Quotes

What would you prefer? Life in a maximum-security prison or trapped in Jurassic Park?" "Do I have a social standing in this prison?" "No. You're just an average Joe." "Then I guess I have to go with Jurassic Park." "Why?" "Well, I'll have constant fresh air, for a start, and also if I'm going to be anyone's prey, I'm going to be the prey of an animal that's acting out of instinct rather than psychopathy... You?" "If you're in Jurassic Park, I'm in Jurassic Park.

You think man can destroy the planet? What intoxicating vanity. Let me tell you about our planet. Earth is four-and-a-half-billion-years-old. There's been life on it for nearly that long, 3.8 billion years. Bacteria first; later the first multicellular life, then the first complex creatures in the sea, on the land. Then finally the great sweeping ages of animals, the amphibians, the dinosaurs, at last the mammals, each one enduring millions on millions of years, great dynasties of creatures rising, flourishing, dying away -- all this against a background of continuous and violent upheaval. Mountain ranges thrust up, eroded away, cometary impacts, volcano eruptions, oceans rising and falling, whole continents moving, an endless, constant, violent change, colliding, buckling to make mountains over millions of years. Earth has survived everything in its time. It will certainly survive us. If all the nuclear weapons in the world went off at once and all the plants, all the animals died and the earth was sizzling hot for a hundred thousand years, life would survive, somewhere: under the soil, frozen in Arctic ice. Sooner or later, when the planet was no longer inhospitable, life would spread again. The evolutionary process would begin again. It might take a few billion years for life to regain its present variety. Of course, it would be very different from what it is now, but the earth would survive our folly, only we would not. If the ozone layer gets thinner, ultraviolet radiation sears the earth, so what? Ultraviolet radiation is good for life. It's powerful energy. It promotes mutation, change. Many forms of life will thrive with more UV radiation. Many others will die out. Do you think this is the first time that's happened? Think about oxygen. Necessary for life now, but oxygen is actually a metabolic poison, a corrosive glass, like fluorine. When oxygen was first produced as a waste product by certain plant cells some three billion years ago, it created a crisis for all other life on earth. Those plants were polluting the environment, exhaling a lethal gas. Earth eventually had an atmosphere incompatible with life. Nevertheless, life on earth took care of itself. In the thinking of the human being a hundred years is a long time. A hundred years ago we didn't have cars, airplanes, computers or vaccines. It was a whole different world, but to the earth, a hundred years is nothing. A million years is nothing. This planet lives and breathes on a much vaster scale. We can't imagine its slow and powerful rhythms, and we haven't got the humility to try. We've been residents here for the blink of an eye. If we're gone tomorrow, the earth will not miss us.

They can't reproduce?" said Shaun incredulously. "That's your big solution? They won't fuck? Did none of you people ever see Jurassic Park?

After we settle in, dinner becomes a quiet affair, probably because it’s feeding time at Jurassic Park.

What would you prefer? Life in a maximum-security prison or trapped in Jurassic Park?" "Do I have a social standing in this prison?" "No. You're just an average Joe." "Then I guess I have to go with Jurassic Park." "Why?" "Well, I'll have constant fresh air, for a start, and also if I'm going to be anyone's prey, I'm going to be the prey of an animal that's acting out of instinct rather than psychopathy." "Good answer, babe. As always." "You?" He shrugged casually. "If you're in Jurassic Park, I'm in Jurassic Park.

Grant knew that people could not imagine geological time. Human life was lived on another scale of time entirely. An apple turned brown in a few minutes. Silverware turned black in a few days. A compost heap decayed in a season. A child grew up in a decade. None of these everyday human experiences prepared people to be able to imagine the meaning of eighty million years—the length of time that had passed since this little animal had died. In the classroom, Grant had tried different comparisons. If you imagined the human lifespan of sixty years was compressed to a day, then eighty million years would still be 3,652 years—older than the pyramids. The velociraptor had been dead a long time.

Martin heaved a heavy sigh, settling deeper into the cushions of the couch. "Like I said, everyone is the main character in their own story. Even villains." I shook my head. "I don't know... Not necessarily. I mean, sometimes the story is bigger than the characters, like Jurassic Park. The Park was really the central focus of the story, and all the characters were secondary to the Park. Their only purpose was to react to the Park." Martin yawned, set his now empty beer on the coffee table, and closed his eyes. "That's because dinosaurs are awesome. We're all sidekicks to dinosaurs." "Or dinner.

probably because it’s feeding time at Jurassic Park.

Lex?” “Yes?” “There’s a bug in your hair.” “Even better.” She gave him another quick peck, then looked in the mirror to investigate her hair. “Shit,” she said, her eyes opening wide. “Don’t move.” “Why, are you sticking to the leather seat? Because I am all kinds of sticking to the leather seat, in places that I didn’t even know about—” “No. Slightly bigger problem,” she said, still frozen. “Uncle Mort: staring. Us: very naked.” “Crap.” Driggs tried to wipe his face clean of saliva, though there was a sizable amount. “Think he can see us?” “He’s not a dinosaur, Driggs. His vision doesn’t depend solely on movement.” “Okay, you really need to stop basing your entire knowledge of dinosaurs on what you learned in Jurassic Park.

If you imagined the human lifespan of sixty years was compressed to a day, then eighty million years would still be 3,652 years—older than the pyramids.

She claps her hands together and smiles. “The best decision I made as a parent was forcing you to take those lessons.” “Really? Of all the options of things you’ve done, that’s the best?” “Oh, yes. Your father can’t carry a tune to save his life, so you’re the next best thing.” I smile as I turn my back. My fingers lightly run across the ivory keys before I begin playing the Jurassic Park theme song. My mum’s voice carries over the music. “I can’t even say I’m mad about how you rejected learning the classics for this kind of music.” “Once a rebel, always a rebel.

The nursery reminded me uncomfortably of a pre-Rising thriller that Maggie had forced me to watch while we were staying at the Agora in Seattle: a dinosaur adventure called Jurassic Park, in which scientists with more brains than sense cloned enormous prehistoric predators just because they could. Maybe that’s an oversimplification of the movie’s premise, but really, who looks at a three-ton thunder lizard and thinks, “I should get one of those for the back garden”?