The Loft Movie Quotes

I wanted to be a sex goddess. And you can laugh all you want to. The joke is on me, whether you laugh or not. I wanted to be one -- one of them. They used to laugh at Marilyn when she said she didn't want to be a sex-goddess, she wanted to be a human being. And now they laugh at me when I say, "I don't want to be a human being; I want to be a sex-goddess." That shows you right there that something has changed, doesn't it? Rita, Ava, Lana, Marlene, Marilyn -- I wanted to be one of them. I remember the morning my friend came in and told us that Marilyn had died. And all the boys were stunned, rigid, literally, as they realized what had left us. I mean, if the world couldn't support Marilyn Monroe, then wasn't something desperately wrong? And we spent the rest of the goddamned sixties finding out what it was. We were all living together, me and these three gay boys that adopted me when I ran away, in this loft on East Fifth Street, before it became dropout heaven -- before anyone ever said "dropout" -- way back when "commune" was still a verb? We were all -- old-movie buffs, sex-mad -- you know, the early sixties. And then my friend, this sweet little queen, he came in and he passed out tranquilizers to everyone, and told us all to sit down, and we thought he was just going to tell us there was a Mae West double feature on somewhere -- and he said -- he said -- "Marilyn Monroe died last" -- and all the boys were stunned -- but I -- I felt something sudden and cold in my solar plexus, and I knew then what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to be the next one. I wanted to be the next one to stand radiant and perfected before the race of man, to shed the luminosity of my beloved countenance over the struggles and aspirations of my pitiful subjects. I wanted to give meaning to my own time, to be the unattainable luring love that drives men on, the angle of light, the golden flower, the best of the universe made womankind, the living sacrifice, the end! Shit!

Picking me up, Frank carries me like they do in the movies to the back of the loft, pushing aside a gauzy scrim on rollers to reveal a king-size bed with Gothic-looking wooden posts jutting out from each corner. This is not the innocent white-sun-dappled bed of my dorm room fantasy. The sheets and duvet are a manly gray, and those posts recall certain scenes in Dracula and Wuthering Heights. Placing me on top of it, he pulls of his sweatshirt, revealing his pale, hairless chest. His disheveled hair hangs limply above his shoulders. He looks a little Klaus Kinski-ish- in need of blood, yet sexy, vulnerable, yet ready to please.

His little piece-of-crap loft didn’t have books or movies, but he had a metric shit ton of weapons and ammo. He opened the door to the closet he’d made into his own private supply shop. Jake whistled. “Is that C-4? Are you fucking kidding me?” Jesse shrugged. Everyone needed a hobby. “I like to be prepared, sir.” “We’re not your superior officers, man. It’s just Jake.” Jake practically salivated. “Is that a fucking P90?” Jake caressed the Belgian made submachine gun. It was highly restricted. Jesse had spent a lot of money buying it on the black market. “You can take it. It might come in handy.” God, he sounded like a five-year-old trying to make a friend. Sean nabbed his SR-25 and an extra cartridge. “This should do it.

His little piece-of-crap loft didn’t have books or movies, but he had a metric shit ton of weapons and ammo. He opened the door to the closet he’d made into his own private supply shop. Jake whistled. “Is that C-4? Are you fucking kidding me?” Jesse shrugged. Everyone needed a hobby. “I like to be prepared, sir.” “We’re not your superior officers, man. It’s just Jake.” Jake practically salivated. “Is that a fucking P90?

The largest apartment in the Dakota belongs to restaurateur Warner LeRoy, the son of movie director Mervyn LeRoy and the nephew of all the Warner brothers. Originally, the LeRoys’ apartment consisted of only ten large rooms on the sixth floor, but when another apartment of the same size became available on the floor immediately above, the LeRoys bought that one too. They persuaded the building to let them construct a staircase between the two apartments, giving them the Dakota’s only duplex, unless one counts Ward Bennett’s split-level pyramid on the roof, the Novaks’ basement studio, and the various sleeping-lofts and balconies that have been inserted between floors here and there. The LeRoy apartment, as might be expected, has been decorated in

Jesus. If a spy movie and old Western had a lovechild, it would look like this,” I say as I make my way down the steps from the loft. They’re all huddled around the kitchen island looking at something on a computer screen. At first, I can barely make him out through the sea of denim jackets and cowboy hats, but Gage stands slightly taller and darker than the rest.

People who watched too many movies about hackers had all sorts of ludicrous ideas about what they were capable of. In general, they hugely overestimated hackers’ ability to do certain things. But there was one area in which hackers were routinely underestimated, and that was lock picking. For them, picking locks was a nice way to kick back and relax after a long day of doing pen tests on corporate networks. No hacker loft was complete without a shoebox full of old locks, handcuffs, and so on, that these guys would sit around and pick just for the fun of it.

I guess the first thing I noticed about Chloe, other than how pretty she is, is how she throws herself all the way into everything she does. The first time I met her, those bookcases in her dad’s office had all fallen down, and I came over with the others to help. She was so worried about her dad and so grateful to us for helping, and then she took us out to dinner to thank us, and she laughed and laughed about how grouchy our server was. It was that… that ability to feel things so deeply—and not be afraid to express those feelings—that I first saw and… and wanted.” Once he’d started talking, he couldn’t seem to stop. He knew Chloe was staring at him, but he focused on Mima, whose face had twisted with emotion at what he’d said. “Yes. That’s exactly Chloe. Tell me more.” Brent’s eyes moved between Mima and Chloe, and then he stared down at the table again. “And there’s something about the way she sees the world. Like it’s… better than other people see it. It’s like she sees color in a black-and-white movie. Little details that other people don’t see. It makes her notice people who other people don’t notice. She noticed me. She went out of her way to get to know me. When no one else really did. She’s not afraid of what she feels. And she’s not afraid of saying what she thinks. She’s not always holding back the way I am. She’s… free. I love that. And I love her laugh and the way she tears up when she’s feeling vulnerable and the way she goes after what she wants. She’s so brave. Even though not everyone sees and appreciates who she is, she still stays true to herself. She’s completely genuine. She has such a big heart. I love that about her the most.