Riley Movie Quotes

Riley tried not to hyperventilate or think too closely about the Alien movies and their take on extraterrestrial encounters. When he was done checking his belly and chest for signs of distension, it added reassuringly, 'Listen, I’m not going to mess with you, okay? Or… breed in you. Gah. That’s disgusting.

That’s the tricky thing about movies. They can be wonderful and beautiful and amazing. But they’re not like life, which is wonderful, beautiful, and amazing in a different way.

Final Girl is film-geek speak for the last woman standing at the end of a horror movie.

And if Charlie’s learned anything from the movies, it’s that few things are more dangerous than someone with nothing to lose.

Movies are like life,” she finally says. “Only better.

I'm throwing out this bottle rocket." "No, wait!" Dan said, reaching for it. "It hasn't been set off yet. Don't waste it, Amy. And we don't have company coming—we have Ian Kabra coming. And I know you want to totally impress him and take him to the movies and stare dreamily into his eyes—" "I do not," Amy said, too quickly. "Oh, Ian," Dan said, pressing his lightsaber to his chest and batting his eyes. "Tell me again about your shiny, shiny shoes.

Life has failed her time and time again. The movies have never let her down.

I like movie night,” she whispers.

And you're right―I don't want nice. I want sparks and fire. I want a romance novel. A Jane Austen movie. A fairy tale.

Few people understood the exceptional role the civil rights movement had on the white boys and girls of the South. Bill Clinton would never have become who he was without the shining example of Martin Luther King. The same is true of Jimmy Carter and Fritz Hollings and Richard and Joe Riley. Imagine this: you’re a little white kid and you watch firehoses turned on people who don’t seem to be hurting anyone, and fierce dogs being tuned on young men who carry signs about freedom. We white kids grew up watching movies and TV and guess what we had learned to do? We had learned to tell the good guys from the bad guys.

Wrapped in Maddy’s red coat, she feels almost possessed by all the tough women she’s admired in movies. Stanwyck in Double Indemnity. Hayworth in The Lady from Shanghai. Crawford in, well, everything. The kind of women men don’t know if they want to kiss or kill. Women who claw and scrape through life because they have to. Now it’s Charlie’s turn. She’s no longer the scared, self-loathing girl she was when she left campus. She’s something else. A fucking femme fatale.

take our world and improve upon it,” Charlie says. “Movies are magical that way. Everything is magnified. The colors are brighter. The shadows are darker. The action more violent and the love affairs more passionate. People break out into song. Or they used to. The emotions—love, hate, fear, laughter—are all bigger. And the people! All those beautiful faces in full close-up. So beautiful it’s hard to look away.

Because they take our world and improve upon it,” Charlie says. “Movies are magical that way. Everything is magnified. The colors are brighter. The shadows are darker. The action more violent and the love affairs more passionate. People break out into song. Or they used to. The emotions—love, hate, fear, laughter—are all bigger. And the people! All those beautiful faces in full close-up. So beautiful it’s hard to look away.

I know Nicky’s happy she’s alive, but that woman just paraphrased the plot of Overboard as an explanation for why she’s been missing for six years.” “Great movie,” Riley said, rubbing her head. “I thought it was just me who kept picturing Kurt Russell while she was talking.

Harrison brought along a copy of a new record he was obsessed with, The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan. On only his second album, Dylan turned in an all-original breakout with meteors like “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right” and “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall.” Lennon and McCartney sponged it up as only two songwriters could while they hammered out sound-track songs for their movie, which would begin filming in March.

Riley: I have to ask you something. Heroine: Shoot… Riley: Bear with me. I can’t believe that we haven’t discussed this yet so I’m a little nervous. Heroine: Now I’m nervous. Riley: You have nothing to worry about. Your life will continue just fine. It’s mine that might come crashing down here. Riley: How do you feel about comics and superheroes? Heroine: DC or Marvel? Heroine: Nevermind, that’s a terrible question. I’d never want to choose. I love the ensembles. The Avengers, the X-Men, the Justice League. Heroine: But I haven’t read any in 20 years. I’ve caught up with the movies as they’ve been released, though. Most of them have been really good. Heroine: Are you still with me? Riley: Yes. Sorry. I just spontaneously orgasmed. Heroine: What? Riley: Nothing. But I’ll talk to you later. Something just popped up.

The whitewash of Kingdom of Heaven Kingdom of Heaven is a classic cowboys-and-Indians story in which the Muslims are noble and heroic and the Christians are venal and violent. The script is heavy on modern-day PC clichés and fantasies of Islamic tolerance; brushing aside dhimmi laws and attitudes (of which Ridley Scott has most likely never heard), it invents a peace-and-tolerance group called the “Brotherhood of Muslims, Jews and Christians.” But of course, the Christians spoiled everything. A publicist for the film explained, “They were working together. It was a strong bond until the Knights Templar caused friction between them.” Ah yes, those nasty “Christian extremists.” Kingdom of Heaven was made for those who believe that all the trouble between the Islamic world and the West has been caused by Western imperialism, racism, and colonialism, and that the glorious paradigm of Islamic tolerance, which was once a beacon to the world, could be reestablished if only the wicked white men of America and Europe would be more tolerant. Ridley Scott and his team arranged advance screenings for groups like the Council on American-Islamic Relations, making sure that sensitive Muslim feelings were not hurt. It is a dream movie for the PC establishment in every way except one: It isn’t true. Professor Jonathan Riley-Smith, author of A Short History of the Crusades and one of the world’s leading historians of the period, called the movie “rubbish,” explaining that “it’s not historically accurate at all” as it “depicts the Muslims as sophisticated and civilised, and the Crusaders are all brutes and barbarians. It has nothing to do with reality.” Oh, and “there was never a confraternity of Muslims, Jews and Christians. That is utter nonsense.

Wow. she is pretty,' Laila said. Her voice stuttered across the last word. The original thought had been, Wow she is hot, and the sentence had transformed on the way out. Laila couldn't talk about anybody like that. Not even her celebrity crushes, not even avatar of perfection Samuel Marquez. A barrier of shame as impermeable as plexiglas walled her off from everything sexual, every thought, every action, even something as small as the difference in connotation between 'pretty' and 'hot.' Hannah had teased her about this once and had stopped when Laila didn't come close to smiling. Her inexperience didn't feel charming or virtuous, like she was some good-girl persona from a movie. It felt furious and heated, humiliating and childish, as if physicality were a language she was supposed to have learned, and here she was in senior year, surrounded by a horde of native speakers, unable to translate the most basic concepts.

I don't want nice. I want sparks and fire. I want a romance novel. A Jane Austen movie. A fairy tale.

Pink passes by me with a wicked look on his face. He walks over to where Elle is sitting, and before she can protest, he scoops her up out of her stool, dips her back dramatically like something from an old movie, and plants a kiss right on her lips. After a moment, he breaks the kiss, sets her back down on the stool, and walks away. “Asshole,” Elle mumbles as she touches her lips, and her cheeks turn bright red. “As much as you keep mentioning your ass, Prinzessin, I can see that’s going to need attention first,” Pink says, not looking back as he walks out the door. I look over to see Elle’s mouth drop open and her cheeks burn even brighter, so I leave her and a laughing Zoey alone in the apartment. When we get outside, I talk to my guys posted outside as a precaution, then Pink and I head to my truck. “You sure you want to keep digging that grave?” I ask, looking over as Pink gets in the truck. “As long as I end up buried inside her, I’m good.

And you're right- I don't want nice. I want sparks and fire. I want a romance novel. A Jane Austen movie. A fairy tale.

Riley felt like he had joined the ranks of romantic heroes who would do anything to win their fair princess. He was Mr. Darcy, he was Rhett Butler, he was Shrek. Maybe not Shrek.

I didn’t turn around until “Cullen!” rang out around me in Houston’s voice. My body whipped around, and there Houston was…running through the airport like we were in a movie or something. He pushed his way through crowds of people, his face pink with a mixture of embarrassment and exhaustion. How far had he run?

Movies are my life", she had told Josh. It should have been the other way around. Charlie should have been able to say, "My life is like the movies.

He’s like a bad movie—nothing makes sense and you can’t take your eyes off it. “I

Love has borders, limitations. A million movies and a billion books have charted its course. We chase it because we already know how it makes us feel, and once you’re in love, your only choice is to fall back out of it again.

I'm tired of living my life like a bad movie.

This feels like Groundhog Day,” Phoenix said as Riley parked at the curb outside his parents’ house. “Groundhog Day?” “Haven’t you seen that movie? My mother has a copy. We watched it the night I got home. Bill Murray’s in it. I wasn’t interested enough to pay a whole lot of attention. I was mostly indulging her. But he lives the same day over and over again.

Um, I saw the movies about you and, um, he-who-must-not-be-named—” “Now you’re just insulting both of us,” Dr. Verity said,

At the time, she wasn’t much of a movie fan, despite always knowing how she got her name. That was Nana Norma’s doing. She had a thing for Hitchcock and instilled that love in Charlie’s mother.

He can be very cold, but he feels things in a very pure way, with a depth that most people don’t get.” What struck Riley most was what she calls “the child within the man.” When he’s happy, this childlike inner self can manifest in a manic way. “When we went to the cinema, he would get so caught up with a silly movie that he would stare in rapture at the screen with his mouth slightly open laughing, then he would actually end up on the floor rolling around, holding his belly.” But she also noticed that the child within the man could be expressed in a darker way.