Mcmurray Quotes

Goodbye, Baby. Walter Neff (Fred McMurray) Double Indemnity

I see an actress smoking a cigarette in an old Fred McMurray movie. She’s clever and beautiful and manipulative. I feel envy. I suddenly wish I smoked cigarettes and was as clever and beautiful and manipulative as she. I want to be that way at the restaurants I visit, as I’m walking to my car, with certain friends who might understand. The actress has played her part well; she’s made me want to emulate her base desires if only for a while. Does that make me impressionable, a fool, or someone who will recognize the deepest secrets of her heart? I fight hard to stay young—to keep the lines from further etching my face and hands and breasts, presumably to trick the world into believing I am young. I’m an actress playing a part. I’m afraid to tell the truth. I fear losing those younger or becoming those older. In the presence of youth, a sort of unseen age-osmosis occurs within me. The years drop away and I don’t want to leave. It’s utterly selfish but I don’t care. After all, I’m no older than they—I’ve just been so longer. I was nineteen only yesterday and they don’t retire nineteen-year-old actresses.

Do not allow what's been done to you defy what you can do for yourself

nihilism

apocryphal,

He hit a local café just one street over and down from his place, ordered a coffee, and tried to draw something on a sketchpad. Nothing came to mind. Time passed more quickly than he'd imagined. On taking a sip of his coffee, he wondered if he should’ve cut to the chase and ordered iced coffee in the first place. He felt restless all of a sudden. “Down to the beach!

Meenoo decided this was a good moment to remind his human staff that he was missing something in his life. Eileen and Katy's eyes were on each other when Meenoo jumped up onto the table, giving them both a start. He went to Eileen and put his left front paw on the paper she was holding in her hand, lowering it to the table: He'd chosen which human was going to have the privilege of feeding him. “Frickin' fleabag”, muttered Eileen. Katy tried to conceal a smile. “Ah, but you're so cute”, said Eileen, rubbing him under his chin.

Off to the immediate left of the garage was a dead-end road down where the parents of one of her exes lived. She wondered if Aidan had returned at any point, perhaps, like her, even to boomerang home for a bit. She also wondered if she was projecting. “Probably nowhere near Hatzquiam.” If she had been curious enough about passing by Aidan's parents' place, then it must have been brief enough that she decided, like waiting for Vince to show up, that it wasn't worth the time. Being curious was fine, but she didn't feel like venturing down a dead-end road.

She put the letter down on the table, choosing to ignore it. After three seconds, she glanced at the letter and picked it up again, re-reading it and giving the event a bit more thought. She smiled little-wicked before putting it back in her bag. The Eventual Novelist looked directly at her, bee-lined to her table, stopped stock-still, and said, “Whatever it is, don't be like me and put it off”, before scurrying back to his table to do whatever he was doing before. Seanna decided that it was to time to drink up and go home.

She will leave me. It’s six AM. Breakfast for one. Eggs, sunny-side-up, like the morning outside; two-cheese English muffin, melting in the toaster oven; already humid outside; coffee will be a little bitter today, no matter how much sweetener gets put in it. The OJ will stay in the fridge – my stomach can do without the citric acid bombardment this morning. She will pack her things and leave me. Coffee brews. Radio station plays then breaks from classical music, telling me what's already evident about the weather. She will complain that she cannot get along with me. Eggs pop and sizzle as the news comes on.

They talked about this novelty called “e-mail” and the Pine System, only available at institutes of higher learning and some libraries. Marcus got his first e-mail address recently but Aidan had gotten his three years earlier, so Marcus considered Aidan “a veteran”. Marcus mentioned that his college had warned its students that e-mail was for “research purposes only”. “Yeah, we all laughed at that, too”, quipped Aidan. “But just a word of warning: Don't get too much into newsgroups or IRC, or you'll wonder where the last 24 hours went.” “What’s “IRC’?” “’Internet Relay Chat’. It’ll be the end of us all”, joked Aidan.