Sundance Quotes

Nobody knows anything.

You can't build a life on a backstage pass or free swag at Sundance.

Sundance, get over here." "Great - You've named me after a guy who dies in that movie.

At Sundance, Robert Redford begins meetings by saying, “I am inviting you to influence me. I want to be different when this meeting is over.

He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion. —Anonymous

If I’ve picked up on anything over the last few months of wearing a costume, it’s that humans are stronger than you’d expect,” I said. It was as much to myself as to Sundancer. “We can endure a hell of a lot of punishment before we break, and even after we’re broken, we tend to keep on going. Could be physical punishment: getting stabbed, getting scarred, broken bones. Could be mental: losing a loved one, being tortured, even the way I feel like breaking down and crying over the fact that just about every other member of my team is probably fucked, but I’m holding myself together? Humans can put up with a hell of a lot.

The memory from Sundance that I hold dearest is a snowball fight. One night I went outside with Lorri, Peter Jackson, and Fran Walsh. It was the first time I'd touched snow in almost twenty years. It was perfect. It was pure and unblemished, and as white as the moon. And then we went into a frenzy, running wild and throwing snowballs at each other. Peter was laughing like a child, and Fran squealed in delight as she was pelted. I'll see it in my head until the day I die.

Marry me." My left eyebrow shot up. "I might take your proposal more seriously if you said it to me instead of the steaks." "I was talking to the steaks.

I suppose it's possible that the Sundance Kid didn't like to make much of his birthdays — they may have struck him as just another reminder that his draw was getting slower by the year—but what if he truly liked a major celebration? What if he looked forward every year to marking the day of his birth with what they used to call in the West 'a real wingding, with pink balloons and a few survivors'?

Butch: Y'know, when I was a kid, I always figured on being a hero when I grew up. Sundance: Too late now. Butch: You didn't have to say that—what'd you have to say that for?

Butch: Now after we.... wait a minute... Sundance: What? Butch: You didn't see Lefors out there? Sundance: Lefors ? No. Butch: Good. For a minute there I thought we were in trouble.

You like it when I'm pushy, you like it when I don't ask permission, and you like it when I run to you, because that means you can act on your attraction to me without feeling guilty.

We drove through Utah, the Crossroads of the West, bordered by all the mountain states, except for Montana. Laying rooted in the backcountry we saw some of the most awe-inspiring groove gulleys we’d ever seen, but it was the intensity of Zion National Park that held our attention; The red rock backdrop dazzled us as brutal rapids nose-dived off the cliffs into pools surrounded by abundant green piñon-juniper forests and fiery peach and coral sandstone canyons carved by flowing rivers and streams. It would honestly not have surprised me to see Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid plunging from an unforgiving precipice into the river below.

Bird looked back at Pastor. *Why did you bite Jeremy?* *Because I felt like it.* *Is it out of your system now? Feel better now?* *Actually, I do* Jeremy piped in; *No big deal. He bit, I kicked; we're even* ... No wonder horses get messed up. By the time people get around it hitting them, the horses have forgotten the whole thing.

He grabbed another warm cookie off the pan. "I know you probably won't marry me if I ask, since I did propose to the steaks a few minutes ago, but how about being my friend?" I laughed. "I think I can manage that." "Stay out of this, Neely. I'm talking to the cookie.

You look like a model for a Jaguar ad." "Take that back." His brows drew down until he looked exactly like the feline on his shoulder. "The car, not the cat.

I didn't like the look in your eyes after I did that." "Look, I can't help what my face does when you piss me off.

I see you use the flannel and fuzzy socks method of birth control. An interesting choice.

It's time for you sack up and start acting like the goddamn lethal predator you are.

Think you used enough dynamite there, Butch?

I'm not crazy; I'm just colorful.

Morons. I've got morons on my team.

They might be referencing the fact that there's a hit out on you, but I can't be sure." "What? A hit? As in hitman?" "Don’t be sexist, Neely. Hitperson." "Damn it, Lucas.

You just keep thinking, Butch; that's what you're good at.

I haven't been reading you. I've been talking with you." William's mouth fell open. "You don't read everyone?" "Not unless I'm looking for something." "For the love of Pete, why not?" He tossed the dish towel on the counter. "We live in a dangerous world and you don't have the speed, strength, or reflexes of a shifter. You must use all weapons at your disposal at all times in order to keep yourself safe.

Fuck off," I said, unsmiling. "In fact, fuck all the way out the front door, down the sidewalk, and back under whatever rock you crawled out from under. I don't know who sent you, I don't know what you want, but … Fuck. Right. Off.

My general philosophy on lying is, don't. Lying is one of those things that can backfire on you in an instant. It ruins reputations, sows the seeds of distrust, and is just plain rude. However, if you are going to do it, do it audaciously.

We're going to do everything together until Saul Roso is dead." "But I thought you were angry with me." "Sugar cookie, I'm so fucking pissed at you for so many reasons, it's all I can do to hold onto this phone. I want to bash it into the wall and follow it with my fist." "Oh." "Oh," he replied in a knotted snarl.

Oh yeah?" He scowled down at me. "What if I kissed you senseless, threw you back on that bed, and did that thing with my tongue that makes you scream and curl your toes?" "Nope." I pursed my lips. Glanced from side to side. Shuffled my feet. Cleared my throat. "I mean, you could always try that to see if it would work.

Mr. Earp was still in his hybrid form and he appeared to have borrowed clothing from Dottie. He looked, strangely enough, like what I'd always pictured the devil would look like. Reptilian tail, wide mouth with grooved teeth, thick beaded flesh. I was a little less afraid of Hell after seeing Satan standing over me in a flower-print muumuu.

There’s a dream I keep having,“ Sheridan whispered into the telephone. “The dream has always been the same—until tonight.” “And what happened tonight?” asked Lil’ John. Sheridan hesitated, his words stumbling out in tentative phrases: “The man in my dream . . . he spoke to me for the first time . . . he told me of a sacred gift that had been lost . . . a gift that could save the world.” “Your dream,” John urged gently. “Is the gods conspiring to give you freedom, just like the elders sang that night in the Sundance ceremony:” When worlds collide There sounds a tolling A call to rise And seize the moment The gods conspire To give us freedom When worlds collide The journey has begun Sheridan pulled at the collar of his t-shirt, Lil’ John’s words suffocating him. Pushing back from the precipice of dread, Sheridan strained to speak, his husky words weak and staggering: “What are you saying?” “Your search for the sacred gift has already begun . . .

After skin moisturizing, teeth brushing, and silently cursing Lucas in the mirror above my sink, I exited the bathroom dressed in a high-necked flannel nightgown that grazed the tops of my knees. At night I liked to crank up the air conditioning, snuggle beneath my comforter, and pretend I was trapped in a cozy cabin during a snowstorm. Simple desert pleasures. Lucas had one arm stretched across the back of my sofa. He slouched against the cushions, eyes hooded as he watched me walk past. "Filming an episode of Little House on the Prairie?

Every July, when Eli was growing up, his mother would close the cabin and move the family to the Sun Dance. Eli would help the other men set up the tepee, and then he and Norma and Camelot would run with the kids in the camp. They would ride horses and chase each other across the prairies, their freedom interrupted only by the ceremonies. Best of all, Eli liked the men’s dancing. The women would dance for four days, and then there would be a day of rest and the men would begin. Each afternoon, toward evening, the men would dance, and just before the sun set, one of the dancers would pick up a rifle and lead the other men to the edge of the camp, where the children waited. Eli and the rest of the children would stand in a pack and wave pieces of scrap paper at the dancers as the men attacked and fell back, surged forward and retreated, until finally, after several of these mock forays, the lead dancer would breach the fortress of children and fire the rifle, and all the children would fall down in a heap, laughing, full of fear and pleasure, the pieces of paper scattering across the land. Then the dancers would gather up the food that was piled around the flagpole—bread, macaroni, canned soup, sardines, coffee—and pass it out to the people. Later, after the camp settled in, Eli and Norma and Camelot would lie on their backs and watch the stars as they appeared among the tepee poles through the opening in the top of the tent. And each morning, because the sun returned and the people remembered, it would begin again.

documentary The Invisible War (which premiered at the 2012 Sundance Film Festival and

1 Make a slit in a tennis ball and drop a treat inside.

Say Your Prayers

Tidy Up Your Toys

Honk a Bike Horn

WEST HOLLYWOOD, Calif. — The harrowing drama “I Smile Back,” making its debut on Sunday at the Sundance Film Festival, opens with a drawn-out shot of a naked, forlorn woman. She is an alcoholic suburban mom having a cocaine-fueled affair and wrestling with mental illness. At one point she gets beaten bloody in an alley.

easy

the same voice and intonation each time you give a verbal cue and enunciate

encourage the dog to bring it back to you by patting your legs, acting excited, or running from him.

Henry's also an insomniac. He suffers from Restless Leg Syndrome. I feel the sheets twitching as his legs move restlessly and think about how incredibly bourgeois we are, with our Sur La Table kitchenware, our Sundance catalogue lamps, our upper-middle class insomnia. Why can't we sleep, I wonder? We have enough to eat, we have a roof over our heads, we're not living in a mud hut sporting a thatch of gnarled leaves that barely cover our genitalia. I'm filled with self-loathing.

More than any inheritance, more than any sacred item, more than any title, the legacy he left behind is this: as on that day in the sundance circle when he lifted me from the depths, he taught us that during our time on earth we ought to love one another, and we ought to work hard to make them whole again. This is at the centre of sacred ceremonies practised by Indigenous people. This is what so many of us seek, no matter where we begin life. This is the reason you walk.

Wait a sec, because… You know, there's a lot to unpack here. I need a moment." Chandra cleared her throat. "You were giving your cat a manicure?" Laughter bubbled up in me. "Pedicure," I murmured, and Chandra snickered.

The blond guard pressed trembling fingers against Carl's throat. He pulled his hand back and stood slowly, his complexion waxy as he clutched his gun and backed toward the door. "You killed him. With your mind." "No one touches my bracelet, Chuck.

I don't like you wearing another man's clothes. If that makes me an asshole, well, it's not like it's news to you.

The hardest part of loading a body into a trunk is working around the spare tire. No one tells you this, but it's true. It has to do with the age of the car, of course. Newer

True. Glad that's settled. Now take your top off." "What?" He shot to his feet and walked out of the bedroom, beckoning me to follow with a snap-flick of his hand. "Hurry up. We've got a half-hour until the convocation and I haven't rubbed myself against you yet.

This is a mess. I mean, this comforter is never going to come clean, no matter how much club soda Malcolm pours on it. Serves him right for buying a white comforter. How arrogant is that anyway? White comforter. It's like he thinks he's better than the rest of us crumb-dropping bed dwellers.

It was stressful having you two so close to each other. My past and present lovers. It was like the Dickens Scrooge story, but with penises instead of ghosts." A laugh burst out of him. "Sometimes I have no idea what holds us together, and then there are times when you say something utterly batshit like that and I truly understand why I fell for you, sugar cookie.

There was nothing I would not have done to get you out of that sanctuary. You understand that, right?" "Yes." I pulled his fingers to my lips and kissed him back. "I knew you'd come for me. You always do." "Neely, I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you. Stop talking dirty." A surprised laugh bubbled out of me. "I love you." "Good. Now let me heal the headache.

Relationships are like milk, Leo. When the milk is fresh, it's delicious. But the second it expires, it's bad forever. There's no turning spoiled milk back to fresh." "You could make kefir," he said, and I snickered.

Looks like the dick didn't fall far from the dick tree.

Because Dolores has a date." Dottie giggled. "Yep. I met someone on one of those dating apps on my phone. Name is Alvin Wallace. He looks pretty good. Bald and old, so he's got that going for him. I like my men experienced and hairless." Yikes. That was as far as I wanted that part of the conversation to go.

here I was, Smilodon alpha leader of the Sundance shifter group, at the mercy of the vehicular version of a mayonnaise sandwich. "Let me repeat it for the people in the back," I said to the empty car. "I hate city traffic.

The thing about Margaret was that she had a way of screwing you over and then making you feel bad for her—and it wasn't my nature to feel bad for anyone who screwed me over.

Either he was accustomed to seeing females of all ages spontaneously disrobe in his presence or he was simply accustomed to being around nude shifters. Whatever the reason, Lucas didn't bat an eye at Dolores's half-naked torso. "Deal, witch." He shook her hand.

He worked on my newly tightened muscles with the heel of his hand. "I won't let anything happen to you." I scowled up at him. "Don't worry about me. I'm a telepath and a spiker. A paranormal. I can take care of myself." "Turning over a new leaf, are we?" "That, or I'm BS-ing you to keep you massaging me. A little to the left, please. That's where it hurts. Yes, right there.

We need to talk." Lucas took a sip of his coffee, swallowed. "Neely, take a break." "Uh, I'm working here, Captain Highhanded." I picked up a clean rag and sprayed and wiped the counter again.

Lucas wore a pair of navy-blue board shorts, nothing else. He hadn't combed his hair or shaved, which made him look all-night-sex-party sleepy, while I looked alert-the-authorities-we're-out-of-coffee exhausted.

Yes. I can be bought, and my price is bubble bath, face masks, hotel pillow chocolates, and South American small batch artisan farm-to-cup coffee.

Tread carefully, wolf." Lucas growled. Dick's face infused with blood until even the tips of his ears were beet red. "Are you threatening me?" "Yes," Lucas replied. "I was pretty clear about it. Pay attention, Dick.

My mother believes in curses from beyond the grave, but I know better. It's the living you have to watch out for.

Fuckers. Every last one of you." "Watch your mouth," Harris grumbled. "Nope." I whipped my head from side to side and pointed at Alpha Juan. "Nope. I've decided. Lucas isn't allowed to make friends anymore. They all turn out to be traitors and murderers.

You're all going to die now," I rasped, and then giggled because I sounded like a villain out of an old movie and also because I was woozy from blood loss.

Get out of my cell." "Neels." The sides of his mouth pulled into a deep frown. "This isn't a prison and you aren't in a cell. It's a holding room. We only put you in here to let you calm down because you keep killing guards." "The depth of your stupidity is breathtaking, Julio.

Why do you think I wouldn't let you come here alone?" "Because you're nosy and wanted to know what I was doing. Also, you don't want me driving your precious car." "That's all true. But it was also to protect you.

Alpha Pallás was a dick. There are some people you meet and instantly know this about them.

He'd turned out to be a decent human when all was said and done, but as far as I was concerned, he could go play in traffic.

This better be life or death, Lucas Blacke, or I'm going to…" I broke off, too angry to finish my threat. "Going to what?" He raised an eyebrow. "Going to … kick you … right in the shins." "You're violent. I like that about you.

A slow smile curved my lips. "That's right. I'm alive and Saul Roso is dead." "Nice job, sugar cookie." I was so happy my nightmare was over, for once, I didn't mind the stupid nickname.

Sarcasm was my best friend these days. Fair enough, since Mr. Sarcasm himself was my boyfriend.

His laugh was low and sexy. "So then, would you say I'm not only the boyfriend of penis present, but possibly the fiancé of penis future?

I took a bite of the bread and pointed at him with the crust. "You know, it's kind of nice to hear that you make mistakes, too. I feel less alone." "I make mistakes all the time." He smirked. "You know, to keep you from feeling alone.

But if you honestly think that what's between us isn't serious, then sugar cookie, you haven't caught up to me yet.

You have your friends, your work, your entertainment. Your dog has only you. You are his life, his love, his everything. —Kyra Sundance

One didn't get over a lifetime of betrayal all at once. If it happened at all, it would be in increments.

I apologize for demanding you read Chandra. It was the assholery cherry on top of the assholery sundae I was responsible for back there.

So you're going to see Barney the mystic, huh? Should I just go ahead and catch a flight out there tonight, or will someone else take you to the hospital?

Watch it. I am not your sexual plaything, Neely Costa MacLeod. I am a living, feeling person with thoughts and dreams and emotions.

you want to get a whole bunch of decent people to do something horrible, the best way to do it is by making them believe that God commanded it.

How are we getting in? Breaking and entering?" Lucas looked a little too excited about that possibility.

I love every single part of you, Lucas Blacke. Even the parts I hate.

Chandra smiled. "Neely talked them into it." He scowled. "Yeah, Neely talked them into it. When she gets that sincere act going, the woman could sell a leaky ink pen to a man in a white suit." He smiled, the joy sparking in his jeweled amber eyes.

Dolores might have terrible taste in cat clothing, but she never lies to me about you.

Kids are mirrors, reflecting back everything that happens to them. You’ve got to make sure they’re surrounded by good things. Remember that, Sundance, if you have kids one day.

America is a violence-loving country where people like John Wayne and even criminals like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and Bonnie and Clyde are considered heroes and heroines. America is a country where the successful man is thought to be the rich man, where honesty, diligence, outstanding scholarship and artistic achievements that bring no financial reward are looked upon with indifference. America is a country where t's considered O.K. and even clever to break the law as long as you can get away with it. Richard Nixon wasn't disgraced here because he was dishonest. People had known he was crooked for a long time; he was disgraced because he got caught. Add those factors up and it's no wonder you got a lot of people who want money and material luxuries and are willing to use illegal means, including violence, t' get them. If they're caught, they're considered losers, but if they get away with it there'll be plenty of people in this country that'll praise 'em.

make sure this script is good enough to shoot, the length matches your story, AND that your story is a short one.

When writing the treatment for your documentary ask yourself repeatedly, page by page: What am I bringing to this subject that we haven’t yet seen?

I strode out of the tower with a Gila monster, a coyote, and a hyena on my tail. It sounded like the opening to a worn-out joke, but it was my life.

The hardest part of loading a body into a trunk is working around the spare tire. No one tells you this, but it's true. It has to do with the age of the car, of course. Newer cars have run-flat tires, or the tire is set into the lower part of the trunk. They don't have spares in such an awkward place, not to mention the additional accoutrements of tire changing.

One of the perks of living in the desert was the never-ending sky. Clear and bright and infinite, you could count stars for weeks and never finish.

Gert embraced him all right. She embraced him right through the front door, creating a crater where the doorframe used to be.

Sixty years prior to the death of “Che” Guevara and high in the same Bolivian highlands, Butch Cassidy and Harry A. Longabaugh, “the Sundance kid,” were holed up and then gunned down by the Bolivian army. It is thought that being mortally wounded, one of them shot the other before shooting himself. Attempts to find any remains that match the DNA of living relatives, has so far failed. However, Butch Cassidy's sister, Lula Parker Betenson, maintained that her brother returned to the United States and lived in seclusion for years. In 1975, Red Fenwick, the feature writer and columnist at The Denver Post, stated that he was acquainted with Cassidy's physician, who continued to treat him for some years after he supposedly was killed in Bolivia.

For shame, Miss Hunt. If your grandfather learned you had taken the liberty of inspecting the tools of one of his workers, he might just tan your hide.

For this reason, white historians think that there was no sun-dancing among the Sioux between 1883 and the 1930s, but they are wrong. The dance simply went underground. During all that time, every year some Sioux, somewhere, performed the ceremony. Henry

I’m a writer/director, my movie is a hit at Sundance, I have a wonderful loving boyfriend, and wow, I have financial stability. Why can’t I get out of bed still? It made it even worse, because there’s nothing else I want. This is what I’m born to do. I’m living my purpose, I’m paying my rent, what’s missing?

Sundance just laughed. “C’mon, where’s your adventurous spirit?” “I think it got sucked up my little puckered asshole when you started shooting holes in the ceiling of a bank and demanding their money,” I said. Sundance shook his head and smiled. “No cojones, no colones, man. That’s how it is in the bank-robbing business.” Will

Of all my objections to Jonathan Crane—and it is a lengthy list—the one point I will concede is that sometimes Fear has a purpose. Sometimes, fear is nature’s way of saying: Whoa there, Sundance, you sure you want to be jumping off that cliff, what with the rocky bed of the Colorado River churning 300 feet below? Sometimes, Fear has a point.