chased a lost dog back to its home

Just One of the Guys (1985)

"I don't want to be naked with anybody now, especially with myself."

Turtle Diary, Russell Hoban

"Is it possible that they made wishes here when they threw in their coins?"

Trust (1991)

Turtle Diary, Russell Hoban

"The model houses and shops, thick and awry, had an air of stolid outrage. It was as if the anima of each place, private and indwelling, had been nagged into standing naked in the little streets before the deformed buildings. As if someone had said, 'We need the money, you must help.' the very boats in the model harbour, oafish and out of scale in the still water, cursed almost aloud, denied any connection whatever with real boats, fishing and the sea, tried by disassociating themselves to make amends to the poor household gods of the port."

Turtle Diary, Russell Hoban

"They were playing a tournament, twelve players, twelve matches a day, twelve days running. When that was over and the victor had been crowned, they'd play another one."

Drop City, T. C. Boyle

"And then he was there, by the tree with its black skirts of tightly woven needles and the bark that smelled of pitch, of air freshener and Pine-Sol, and saw that there was no moose, wounded or otherwise, lying heaped in the snow. He heard a sudden sharp heartrending cry then, the cry of a human baby spitted by some fiend on the point of a bayonet, and looked down at his feet. There was something there, a black weakly thrashing living form, a thing he'd shot while it clung to the bark of the tree eight feet from the ground, impersonating the head of a moose. And what was it? weak and bristling, the life sucking out of the hole he'd put in it--a porcupine, that's what it was, the humped and hobbling old man of the woods, fit only to feed to the dogs. 

For a long moment he stood there, watching the thing thrash its spiked head against the ground, back and forth, back and forth, a metronome keeping time with its agony and its unbelief-or was that its tail? All the while, the dark thumping kept time to the beat of his own unavailing blood. He felt foolish, felt lost and hopeless and incompetent, felt ashamed, felt guilty. ..."

Drop City, T. C. Boyle

 

Wolves: A Legend Returns to Yellowstone (2007)

"And then a voice she recognized, knew so intimately it was as if she were speaking herself: 'Come on, Norm, come on, man, don't let us down.' It was Ronnie, across the room, his face pinched and his eyes swollen in his head. He looked terrible. Looked as if he'd been buried a week and dug up again. But that voice, that tone--there was something raw and desperate in it, a quaver she recognized from all those late-night disquisitions on God, the futility of life an how impossible it was to find a good FM station in the flatlands, and she understood in that moment how much all this meant to him. Ronnie. Pan. He needed Drop City as much as she did. 'Come on, Norm,' he nagged. 'Come on.'"

Drop City, T. C. Boyle

"I'm not a very good cinema spectator. I become very, very impatient very, very quickly. I don't know whether you're going to believe me, but the last time I went into a cinema, came into the box office, bought a ticket, sat down in the dark for a 120 minutes and stayed there to the bitter end would be David Lynch's Blue Velvet. That was a long, long time ago... ...it's related to being a practicing filmmaker, I don't want to watch other people's films, I wanna make my own films!"

Peter Greenaway, "Peter Greenaway on his filmmaking style & career, A Life in Pictures," BAFTA

"They didn't want to save children, they wanted to be children."

Drop City, T. C. Boyle

"he was back on the river, moving with the current, moving fast"

Three Days of the Condor (1975)

Drop City, T. C. Boyle