Quoyle:
What are we doing here?
Agnis:
Makin' a future!
Billy:
It's women that's shaped like leaves, and men fall.
Billy:
It's finding the center of your story, the beating heart of it, that's what makes a reporter. You have to start by making up some headlines. You know: short, punchy, dramatic headlines. Now, have a look, what do you see?
[
Points at dark clouds at the horizon]
Billy:
Tell me the headline.
Quoyle:
Horizon Fills With Dark Clouds?
Billy:
Imminent Storm Threatens Village.
Quoyle:
But what if no storm comes?
Billy:
Village Spared From Deadly Storm.
Quoyle:
...broken man can heal.
[
Tert is ordered to buy Quoyle a new computer]
Quoyle:
IBM please.
Tert Card:
Go back to your work Quoyle!
Quoyle:
I!... B!... M!
Petal Bear:
It's 8:05. I think I'm gonna fuck you by 10:00.
Quoyle:
[
reading the newspaper] This is from the "News of you Neighbors" column. "The pole on the corner of Main and West Streets has a sign on it that says it's illegal to place anything on that pole. We see the postman has landed in the clink for throwing the mail in Killick-Claw Harbor. He said he had too much to deliver and the folks could just take a dip and help themselves. Guess it helps if you can swim."
Quoyle:
This is professional stuff. How am I supposed to write this?
Jack Buggit:
. . I need a reporter. And you'll do local car wrecks. Take the picture, write the story. We run a front-page photo of a car wreck every week whether or not we actually hav a a car wreck. Now, there's a knack for taking photos that make you feel something. If there's a dark patch on the ground it reads blood whether it's motor oil or Diet Coke.
Billy:
[
delivering a eulogy at Jack's wake] Jack is ... Jack is all right now. You all know ... we are only passing by. We walk over these stones a few times. Our boats ... sail for a little while on the waves and then they have to sink. Jack knew that, better than anyone. Right, Jack?
Jack Buggit:
You don't have the sense God gave a donut, do you?
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