Quote of the Day postsTuesday February 24, 2009
Quote of the Day
"Other highlights for me — two faces: Philippe Petit's, for balancing an Oscar on it, and Penelope Cruz, for just having it."
— Adam Wahlberg on the Oscars
Lyrics of the Day
When I see you, when I hear you, when I touch you
Or just when I think that I might see or hear or touch you
Maybe you'd stop crying
Maybe you'd stop crying."
— Gavin Osborn
"The Greatest Thing There Is"
The Devil Is My Kinda Woman
“When asked why she had so many sexual partners, Marlene [Dietrich] shrugged. 'They asked.'”
— from “It Happened at the Hotel Du Cap” by Cari Beauchamp in the March 2009 Vanity Fair.
Oscar Acceptance Speech of the Day
“You know, when you grow up in the suburbs of Sydney or Auckland or Newcastle, like Ridley or Jamie Bell — well, the suburbs of anywhere — a dream like this seems kind of vaguely ludicrous and completely unattainable. But this moment is directly connected to those childhood imaginings. And for anybody who's on the down side of advantage and relying purely on courage, it's possible. Thanks very much.”
— Russell Crowe after winning best actor for “Gladiator.”
Quote of the Day
“For me, [Ted] Williams is the classic ballplayer of the game on a hot August weekday, before a small crowd, when the only thing at stake is the tissue-thin difference between a thing done well and a thing done ill. Baseball is a game of the long season, of relentless and gradual averaging-out. Irrelevance—since the reference point of most individual games is remote and statistical—always threatens its interest, which can be maintained not by the occasional heroics that sportswriters feed upon but by players who always care; who care, that is to say, about themselves and their art. Insofar as the clutch hitter is not a sportswriter’s myth, he is a vulgarity, like a writer who writes only for money. It may be that, compared to managers’ dreams such as Joe DiMaggio and the always helpful Stan Musial, Williams is an icy star. But of all team sports, baseball, with its graceful intermittences of action, its immense and tranquil field sparsely settled with poised men in white, its dispassionate mathematics, seems to me best suited to accommodate, and be ornamented by, a loner. It is an essentially lonely game. No other player visible to my generation has concentrated within himself so much of the sport’s poignance, has so assiduously refined his natural skills, has so constantly brought to the plate that intensity of competence that crowds the throat with joy.”
— John Updike on Ted Williams in “Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu,” and a reminder of what baseball used to be.