Sweeney Quotes

You know you've read a good book when you turn the last page and feel a little as if you have lost a friend.

How can a society that exists on instant mashed potatoes, packaged cake mixes, frozen dinners, and instant cameras teach patience to its young?

There's a hole in the world like a big black pit who are filled with people who are filled with shit.

Sweeney: I can just see all you tough young soldiers cuddling together. Richard: Not cuddling, huddling. There's a difference.

At last, my arm is complete again

They all deserve to die. Even you, Mrs. Lovett Even I. Because the lives of the wicked should be made brief For the rest of us death would be relief.

A wedding anniversary is the celebration of love, trust, partnership, tolerance and tenacity. The order varies for any given year.

She was so much better at being alone; being alone came more naturally to her. She led a life of deliberate solitude, and if occasional loneliness crept in, she knew how to work her way out of that particular divot. Or even better, how to sink in and absorb its particular comforts.

I only met Mad Sweeney twice, alive," he said. "The first time I thought he was a world-class jerk with the devil in him. The second time I thought he was a major fuckup and I gave him the money to kill himself. He showed me a coin trick I don't remember how to do, gave me some bruises, and claimed he was a leprechaun. Rest in peace, Mad Sweeney.

She supposed she could Google, but she preferred to wonder.

Swing your razor wide! Sweeney, hold it to the skies!

True success is overcoming the fear of being unsuccessful.

If you can't eat it, drink it, smoke it, or snort it... then f*ck it!

There's a hole in the world like a great black pit and the vermin of the world inhabit it and its morals aren't worth what a pig could spit and it goes by the name of London. At the top of the hole sit the privileged few Making mock of the vermin in the lonely zoo turning beauty to filth and greed... I too have sailed the world and seen its wonders, for the cruelty of men is as wonderous as Peru but there's no place like London!

Parents are temporary custodians, keeping watch and offering love and trying to leave the child better than they found him.

She believed in second chances, sometimes more than first chances, which were wasted on youth and indiscretion.

It's a good thing, right, when an author gets turned on by the dirty scenes they write?!

You know you’ve read a good book when you turn the last page and feel a little as if you have lost a friend.

Define success on your own terms, achieve it by your own rules, and build a life you’re proud to live.

Now, this one might be a little stringy, but then again, it's fiddle player." That isn't fiddle player, it's piccolo player." How can you tell?" It's PIPING hot!" Then blow on it first!

The Cycle of True Love: First I see and think I love, then I say I know I love, today and forever more I decide to love.

Alright! You sir, you sir, how about a shave? Come and visit your good friend Sweeney. You sir, too sir? Welcome to the grave. I will have vengenance. I will have salvation. Who sir, you sir? No ones in the chair, Come on! Come on! Sweeney's. waiting. I want you bleeders. You sir! Anybody! Gentlemen now don't be shy! Not one man, no, nor ten men. Nor a hundred can assuage me. I will have you! And I will get him back even as he gloats In the meantime I'll practice on less honorable throats. And my Lucy lies in ashes And I'll never see my girl again. But the work waits! I'm alive at last! And I'm full of joy!

She was open to love, but she was best at managing her own happiness; it was other people’s happiness that sunk her.

Maturity is so often considered to be synonymous with ‘adult.’ But I truly feel that maturity may be defined by the ability to be both an adult and a child.

This was the part she hated, the part of a relationship that always nudged her to bail, the part where someone else’s misery or expectations or neediness crept into her carefully prescribed world. It was such a burden, other people’s lives.

Morality, for all the conditioning to which the human mind has been and is subjected, is always a personal choice in the last analysis.

... The use of your gift for good is your responsibility. You must decide for yourself.

The destruction of something beautiful can appear so entertaining.

People abandoned one another constantly without performing the courtesy of of actually disappearing. They left, but didn't, lurking about, a constant reminder of what could or should have been.

It is astonishing, in the end, how difficult it is to know the things you know. What I mean is that all I had discovered was everything I knew all along.

Are you ready for me to read?” I took her outstretched cup and placed it on the bedside table. “I was ready ten minutes ago. If you wait any longer I’ll have time to write a novel meself.

This means that, in some sense, free will is a fake. Decisions are made ahead of time by the brain, without the input of consciousness, and then later the brain tries to cover this up (as it’s wont to do) by claiming that the decision was conscious. Dr. Michael Sweeney concludes, “Libet’s findings suggested that the brain knows what a person will decide before the person does. … The world must reassess not only the idea of movements divided between voluntary and involuntary, but also the very idea of free will.” All this seems to indicate that free will, the cornerstone of society, is a fiction, an illusion created by our left brain. So are we masters of our fate, or just pawns in a swindle perpetuated by the brain?

Have you ever believed in something so completely that you were willing to give up everything and everyone in your life to protect it?

I have never felt so powerful. This must be what men used to feel like. My mere physical presence is enough to terrify someone into running. No wonder they used to get drunk on it.

Let Pirelli's / Miracle Elixir / Activate your roots, sir... Keep it off your boots, sir- / Eats right through. Yes, get Pirelli's! / Use a bottle of it! / Ladies seem to love it... Flies do, too!

Something significant, magical, and inspiring happens with each word you read in the pages of a book. You explore new lands, meet new people, feel new emotions, and are no longer the same person you were one word prior to reading it.

Rules are made to be broken." - Jared

Everyone’s always on the hunt for a mirror. It’s basic psychology. You want to see yourself reflected in others. Others—your sister, your parents—they want to look at you and see themselves. They want you to be a flattering reflection of them—and vice-versa. It’s normal. I suppose it’s really normal if you’re a twin. But being somebody else’s mirror? That is not your job.” Nora

As far back as Yossarian could recall, he explained to Clevinger with a patient smile, somebody was always hatching a plot to kill him. There were people who cared for him and people who didn't, and those who hated him were out to get him. They hated him because he was Assyrian. But they couldn't touch him, he told Clevinger, because he had a sound mind in a pure body and was as strong as an ox. They couldn't touch him because he was Tarzan, Mandrake, Flash Gordon. He was Bill Shakespeare. He was Cain, Ulysses, the Flying Dutchman; he was Lot in Sodom, Deirdre of the Sorrows, Sweeney in the nightingales among trees. He was miracle ingredient Z-247. He was - Crazy!" Clevinger interrupted, shrieking. "That's what you are! Crazy!" "immense. I'm a real slam-bang, honest-to-goodness, three-fisted humdinger. I'm a bona fide Supraman." "Superman?" Clevinger cried. "Superman?" Supraman," Yossarian corrected.

Right now, it felt like there was nowhere for his thoughts to alight that wasn't rife with land mines of regret or anger or guilt.

When life hands you lemons, hand them back and demand chocolate!

TODD: The history of the world, my love -- LOVETT: Save a lot of graves, Do a lot of relatives favors! TODD: Is those below serving those up above! LOVETT: Ev'rybody shaves, So there should be plenty of flavors! TODD: How gratifying for once to know BOTH: That those above will serve those down below!

People may be persuaded that the machine is doing good. In fact, good is only capable of being done on a small scale. Evil is more versatile. You can hate those you have never seen, all the vast multitudes of them, but you can only love those you know — and that with difficulty.

True patriotism, Jack believed, would have been for his fellow Americans to look inward after 9/11 and accept a little blame, admit the attacks had happened, in part, because of who they were in the world, not in spite of it.

I you want people to judge you based on the inside, don't distract them from the outside.

You are reading while walking, she reads. You can't see your feet. The spread pages glide over the sidewalk, mottled by leaf shadows, by moonlight and streetlight. Over continents of shadow, continents of light. The book is a bird with white wings. You are a bird. Reading, you can fly. You are flying now.

Our brains are dark globes lit by very distant stars.

Icy pillars of serenity, spun from airy mist, entered my quiet vision in echoes of worlds unknown.

forgiveness is a choice. It doesn’t arrive on fairy wings; it doesn’t descend from the sky for you to take or leave. Forgiveness is an action.” Flora

His love for her was quiet and constant, familiar and soothing; it was almost its own thing entirely, like a worn rock or a set of worry beads, something he’d pick up and weigh in his palm occasionally, more comforting than dispiriting.

Because in all of the whole human race Mrs. Lovett, there are two kinds of men and only two There's the one staying put in his proper place And the one with his foot in the other one's face

People might not change but their incentives could.

My eyes refuse to let him leave, but he stands still holding my hand, lingering for as long as possible.

You become a changed person when you face the reaper and deny him your soul.

It was stupid, she now understood, to think that privilege translated to protection. To mistake privilege for grace.

Paranormal. It rolls off the tongue with such poetry but it means something like, beyond normal. There is nothing paranormal about magic. Magic is the norm. —Penny Sweeney Magic All Around

A fleeting moment of bliss filling your existence with ecstasy, only to fade with the dimming light. No, I could not believe that.

Most people follow the path wherever it leads them. Others hack their own way through the brush and always seem to end up on higher ground.

It's not your job to be anyone's mirror.

So many choices and temptations tonight. - Emma

I lost myself there — my mind imaging what was under his towel and what I would like to do to him. - Emma

Too often, she looked forward to the end of something—to beginning the remembering—more than the thing itself.

They all deserve to die. Tell you why, Mrs. Lovett, tell you why. Because in all of the whole human race Mrs Lovett, there are two kinds of men and only two There's the one they put in his proper place And the one with his foot in the other one's face Look at me, Mrs Lovett, look at you. Now we all deserve to die Tell you why, Mrs. Lovett, tell you why. Because the lives of the wicked should be made brief For the rest of us death will be a relief We all deserve to die.

He tasted Truth, a truth that he could not put into words.

But I was caught in an hourglass of colliding dreams.

I heard the waves tumbling in a chorus of doves, inviting me to take part in their vision. A vision from Beyond.

How often we fail to realize our good fortune in living in a country where happiness is more than a lack of tragedy.

Sticks and stones may break your bones, but I will surely kill you.

Being human doesn’t mean you’re weak, it just means you’re subject to the same little quirks and foibles as the rest of us—for which you should be grateful.

We are one.

Everyone’s always on the hunt for a mirror. It’s basic psychology. You want to see yourself reflected in others.

Ah, the confidence of the mediocre white man.

A little playful banter never hurt — or did it? - Emma

As for clichés, they’re an illusion. When you think about it, anything could be considered a cliché. It’s when you really bring truth to something that it becomes original…which may," he smiled wryly, "itself be considered a cliché.

There is an unspoken pact between best friends that stipulates the following: To induce laughter, all you have to do is look at your partner-in-crime—even in the absence of said crime.

Because in all of the whole human race Mrs. Lovett, there are two kinds of men and only two There's the one staying put in his proper place And the one with his foot in the other one's face Look at me, Mrs Lovett, look at you. No, we all deserve to die Even you, Mrs Lovett, even I! Because the lives of the wicked should be made brief For the rest of us death will be a relief

Have you ever felt like you were caught in a maze in which nothing made sense? In which you saw Superman and the Green Goblin in the same comic strip when they really belonged in two different stories?

Well, in the meantime, Carter and I have been discussing the matter of Ryan." This time it wasn't the clang of a pan I heard, but instead a messy smack--the contact of Carter's backhand with Dean's head, I presumed. "Just hear me out. You have options. I have an Italian uncle. He'll make sure Ryan is sleeping with the fishes by next week." "Dean!" Unable to repress my amusement, my eyes flew wide and my grin grew. "Either that, or we can go all Sweeney Todd on him and--" "Oh, will you stop?" My laughter was crippling. "There will be no calls to your uncle and no trip to the barber shop--please, leave Sweeney Todd out of it.

There was a barber and his wife and she was beautiful... a foolish barber and his wife. She was his reason for his life... and she was beautiful, and she was virtuous. And he was naive. There was another man who saw that she was beautiful... A biased vulture of the law who, with a gesture of his claw removed the barber from his plate! And there was nothing but to wait! And she would fall! So soft! So young! So lost and oh so beautiful! Antony (spoken) The lady, sir...did she succumb? Sweeney Todd (sung) Ah, that was many years ago... I doubt if anyone would know. (spoken) Now leave me, Antony. There is somewhere I must go, something i must find out. Now, and alone. Antony (spoken) But surely we will meet again before I am off to Plymouth? Sweeney Todd (spoken) If you want you may well find me around Fleet Street. I wouldn't wander. (sung) There's a hole in the world like a great black pit and it's filled with people who are filled with shit! And the vermin of the world inhabit it!

As cliché as that sounded. As cliché as truth can sound. As real as truth can be.

On the contrary,” he said softly, “everyone is here.

The adventurer became the storyteller...and then the Sentinel of the Sea.

He’s convinced that you’re a psycho,” I explained, as I reached the bench. “He has the list narrowed down to either a double agent or a serial killer.

And yet the great blue sky was above me and my eyes thirsted for its words.

Delicate footprints circled around and around in a softly traced maze. I breathed in the scent of the deep crimson rose petals before me, and a glimpse of a thought suddenly surrounded them.

He wished to be more like the sea. He wished to know its wisdom, its peace. He wished to know the legend that it spoke. The legend that soared far beyond legends. The Legend that spoke Truth.

Todd:I had him! His throat was there beneath my hand. No, I had him! His throat was there and now he'll never come again. Mrs. Lovett: Easy now, hush love hush I keep telling you, Whats your rush? Todd: When? Why did I wait? You told me to wait - Now he'll never come again. There's a hole in the world like a great black pit And it's filled with people who are filled with shit And the vermin of the world inhabit it. But not for long... They all deserve to die. Tell you why, Mrs. Lovett, tell you why. Because in all of the whole human race Mrs. Lovett, there are two kinds of men and only two There's the one staying put in his proper place And the one with his foot in the other one's face Look at me, Mrs Lovett, look at you. No, we all deserve to die Even you, Mrs Lovett, even I! Because the lives of the wicked should be made brief For the rest of us death will be a relief We all deserve to die. And I'll never see Johanna No I'll never hug my girl to me - finished! Alright! You sir, how about a shave? Come and visit your good friend Sweeney. You sir, too sir? Welcome to the grave. I will have vengenance. I will have salvation. Who sir, you sir? No ones in the chair, Come on! Come on! Sweeney's. waiting. I want you bleeders. You sir! Anybody! Gentlemen now don't be shy! Not one man, no, nor ten men. Nor a hundred can assuage me. I will have you! And I will get him back even as he gloats In the meantime I'll practice on less honorable throats. And my Lucy lies in ashes And I'll never see my girl again. But the work waits! I'm alive at last! And I'm full of joy! ps. love the movie the performance that Johnny Depp did was amazing and he sang amazing.

The whole world seemed full of hurt feelings and apologies, endless selfishness and explanations. Wasn't there anything that anyone could understand about each other? Weren't there some hurt feelings that mattered more? Or did it all matter just as much, interminably, wound after wound?

For the dead are always close by in a life like Mahony's. The dead are drawn to the confused and the unwritten, the damaged and the fractured, to those with big cracks and gaps in their tales, which the dead just yearn to fill. For the dead have secondhand stories to share with you, if you'd only let them get a foot in the door.

I sat down, turning the pages of my notebook in search of a blank page, in the dim light of my room. The arrival of nightfall had invited leafy shadows to play hide and seek in the glass reflection of the window. I smiled as one of these mischievous shadows crept across the page in a midnight dance.

Polyphiloprogenitive The sapient sutlers of the Lord Drift across the window-panes. In the beginning was the Word. In the beginning was the Word. Superfetation of to en, And at the mensual turn of time Produced enervate Origen. A painter of the Umbrian school Designed upon a gesso ground The nimbus of the Baptized God. The wilderness is cracked and browned But through the water pale and thin Still shine the unoffending feet And there above the painter set The Father and the Paraclete. . . . . . . The sable presbyters approach The avenue of penitence; The young are red and pustular Clutching piaculative pence. Under the penitential gates Sustained by staring Seraphim Where the souls of the devout Burn invisible and dim. Along the garden-wall the bees With hairy bellies pass between The staminate and pistilate, Blest office of the epicene. Sweeney shifts from ham to ham Stirring the water in his bath. The masters of the subtle schools Are controversial, polymath.

And, as I had gazed at my surroundings, at the muted, yet triumphant, colors splashed in joyful serenity over the immaculate stone floor, at the profiles of my fellow parishioners bent in prayer, and finally, up above, at the flickering lights held in a soft gray ceiling like chandeliers in an ancient palace, I realized that my thoughts had been transferred to Someone Else.

My Dear Lord, please help me. Place me in the Center of Your Perfect Will. Adoro te devote, latens Deitas. Bread of Life by bread concealed, speaking heart to heart. Tibi se cor meum totum subjicit. Let Your presence draw me in here my senses fail. Visus cactus, gustus in te falliti. This is truth enough for me. Peto quod petivit latro paenitens. Seeing You upon the Cross, flesh and blood, I find. Plagas, sicut Thomas, non intueor. I see not but name You still God and Prince of Life. O memoriale mortis Domini. How I thirst to meet Your gaze gloriously revealed. After life's obscurity, let me wake to see. Beauty shining from Your Face for eternity. Amen.

Unlike prose writing, the strange process of writing with pictures encourages associations and recollections to accumulate literally in front of your eyes; people, places, and events appear out of nowhere. Doors open into rooms remembered from childhood, faces form into dead relatives, and distant loves appear, almost magically, on the page- all deceptively manageable, visceral, the combinations sometimes even revelatory.

TOBIAS: Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around. Nothing's gonna harm you, no sir, not while I'm around. Demons are prowling everywhere, nowadays, I'll send 'em howling, I don't care, I got ways. No one's gonna hurt you, No one's gonna dare. Others can desert you, Not to worry, whistle, I'll be there. Demons'll charm you with a smile, for a while, But in time... Nothing can harm you Not while I'm around... Not to worry, not to worry I may not be smart, but I ain't dumb I can do it, put me to it Show me something, I can overcome. Not to worry, mum. Being close and being clever Ain't like being true I don't need to, I would never hide a thing from you, Like some... MRS. LOVETT: Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around. Nothing's gonna harm you, darling, not while I'm around. TOBIAS: Demons'll charm you with a smile, for a while, But in time... Nothing's gonna harm you Not while I'm around...

So the first time she and Leo combusted, she'd practically been poised for the breakup. In some inexplicable way, she'd been looking forward to it and all its attendant drama, because wasn't there something nearly lovely–when you were young enough–about guts churning and tear ducts being put to glorious overuse? She recognized the undeniable satisfaction of the first emotional fissure because an unraveling was still something grown-up and, therefore, life affirming. See? The broken heart signalled. I loved enough to lose; I felt enough to weep. Because when you were young enough, the stakes of love were so very small, nearly insignificant. How tragic could a breakup be when it was part of the fabric of expectation from the beginning? The hackneyed fights, the late-night phone calls, the indignant recounting for friends over multiple drinks and in earshot of an appropriately flirtatious bartender–it was theatre for a certain type of person . . . Until it wasn't.

ANTHONY: I feel you, Johanna, I feel you Do they think that walls can hide you? Even now I'm at your window I am in the dark beside you, Buried sweetly in your yellow hair, Johanna… SWEENEY TODD: And are you beautiful and pale, With yellow hair, like her I'd want you beautiful and pale, The way I've dreamed you were, Johanna... ANTHONY: Johanna... SWEENEY TODD: And if you're beautiful, what then, With yellow hair, like wheat? I think we shall not meet again — My little dove, my sweet Johanna… ANTHONY: I'll steal you, Johanna… SWEENEY TODD: Goodbye, Johanna. You're gone, and yet you're mine. I'm fine, Johanna, I'm fine! ANTHONY: Johanna… BEGGAR WOMAN: Smoke! Smoke! Sign of the devil! Sign of the devil! City on fire! Witch! Witch! Smell it, sir! An evil smell! Every night at the vespers bell — Smoke that comes from the mouth of hell — City on fire! City on fire! Mischief! Mischief! Mischief... SWEENEY TODD: And if I never hear your voice, My turtledove, my dear, I still have reason to rejoice: The way ahead is clear, Johanna... JOHANNA: I'll marry Anthony Sunday Anthony…Sunday… ANTHONY: I feel you… SWEENEY TODD: And in that darkness when I'm blind With what I can't forget — ANTHONY: Johanna… SWEENEY TODD: It's always morning in my mind, My little lamb, my pet, Johanna… JOHANNA: I knew you'd come for me one day… Come for me…one day… SWEENEY TODD/ANTHONY: You stay, Johanna — Johanna… SWEENEY TODD: The way I've dreamed you are Oh look, Johanna — a star! ANTHONY: Buried sweetly in your yellow hair… SWEENEY TODD: A shooting star! BEGGAR WOMAN: There! There! Somebody, somebody look up there! Didn't I tell you? Smell that air! City on fire! Quick, sir! Run and tell! Warn 'em all of the witch's spell! There it is, there it is, the unholy smell! Tell it to the Beadle and the police as well! Tell 'em! Tell 'em! Help! Fiend! City on fire! City on fire! Mischief! Mischief! Mischief...Fiend . . . Alms…alms...for a miserable woman… SWEENEY TODD: And though I'll think of you, I guess, until the day I die, I think I miss you less and less as every day goes by, Johanna... ANTHONY: Johanna... JOHANNA: With you beside me on Sunday, Married on…Sunday… SWEENEY TODD: And you'd be beautiful and pale, And look too much like her. If only angels could prevail, We'd be the way we were, Johanna... ANTHONY: I feel you...Johanna… JOHANNA'S VOICE: Married on Sunday…married on Sunday ... SWEENEY TODD: Wake up, Johanna! Another bright red day! We learn, Johanna, to say goodbye! ANTHONY: I’ll steal you!

My Friend Todd: These are my friends See how they glisten See this one shine How he smiles In the light My friend! My faithful friend! Speak to me, friend Whisper, I'll listen I know, I know You've been locked Out of sight All these years! Like me, my friend! Well, I've come home To find you waiting Home And we're together And we'll do wonders Won't we? You there, my friend Mrs. Lovett: I'm your friend too, Mr. Todd Todd: Come, let me hold you Mrs. Lovett: If you only knew, Mr. Todd Todd: Now, with a sigh Mrs. Lovett: Ooh, Mr. Todd! Todd: You grow warm in my hand Mrs. Lovett: You're warm in my hand Todd: My friend! Mrs. Lovett: You've come home! Todd: My clever friend! Mrs. Lovett: Always had a fondness for you, I did Todd: Rest now, my friend Mrs. Lovett: Never you fear, Mr. Todd Todd: Soon I'll unfold you Mrs. Lovett: You can move in here, Mr. Todd Todd: Soon you'll know Todd and Mrs. Lovett: Splendours you'd never have dreamed all your days Mrs. Lovett: Will be yours! Todd: My lucky friend! Mrs. Lovett: I'm your friend! And you're mine! Todd: Till now your shine Mrs. Lovett: Don't they shine beautiful? Todd: Was merely silver! Mrs. Lovett: Silver's good enough for me, Mr. T Todd: Friend You shall drip rubies You'll soon drip precious Rubies At last, my arm is complete again!

There is nothing more nerve-racking than waiting as someone reads your writing. The reader becomes the videographer, zooming far, far into your heart and soul, unveiling every inch and corner. The writer remains a wary observer at the mercy of the reader, clueless as to how he might react. The writer is exposed, laid bare; her innermost thoughts and feelings are revealed in a potentially scathing moment of vulnerability. I trusted Peter so fully…in a way that I could not explain. For that very reason, it mattered so immensely. To actually tell him what I knew he had already often seen in my eyes was to allow him to enter a new dimension in that world. And it mattered. It really, truly mattered.

On average, odd years have been the best for me. I’m at a point where everyone I meet looks like a version of someone I already know. Without fail, fall makes me nostalgic for things I’ve never experienced. The sky is molting. I don’t know if this is global warming or if the atmosphere is reconfiguring itself to accommodate all the new bright suffering. I am struck by an overwhelming need to go to Iceland. Despite all awful variables, we are still full of ideas as possible as unsexed fruit. I was terribly sorry to be the one to explain to the first graders the connection between the sunset and pollution. On Venus you and I are not even a year old. Then there were two skies. The one we fly through and the one we bury ourselves in. I appreciate my wide beveled spatula which fulfills the moment I realized I would grow up and own such things. I am glad I do not yet want sexy bathroom accessories. Such things. In the story we were together every time. On his wedding day, the stone in his chest not fully melted but enough. Sometimes I feel like there are birds flying out of me.