& Jack: Just write the assignment now, everyone. Just one sentence that elevates humankind with one image fresh-baked from the ovens of your computer-deadened, shopping mall-suffocated minds.
& Jack: Write, you droids!
& Dina: In this class, we’re interested in what we might call fine art. Fine art, whatever that means. The trouble is in the words. Don’t trust the words. The words are lies. The words are traps. We’re going to look, we’re going to feel, we’re going to see, we’re going to learn, until you can show me what fine art is, all right?
& Jack: Look at you. Twittering your friends in no more than 140 characters and saying what? Showered, you watched some shitty reality TV show, you ate a yogurt. You know, what if you had to say something meaningful in just three lines and about 17 syllables?
Jack: That’s about 400 years old, Freidman. It’s a Haiku, an early Tweet.
& Jack: You see, you use a computer, you click on the word «ant,» you get the data. Fine. You pick up a book and leaf through the pages to find the ant, you’re going to bump into a saint, an admiral, a poet, a town in Connecticut. You’re going to learn something outside of the assignment just because of your own undeniable and most valuable curiosity. You’re going to see a word, and you’re going to jump on it, or it’s going to jump on you. Then you have it forever.
& Jack: You know, if words are lies, then what’s the truth? A picture? Something you painted? Here’s a word for you. Arrogance.
Dina: And here’s a picture... Pfft!
& Jack: See, grunting is fine, but it only goes so far, and so are gestures and cave paintings. And so people out of necessity invented words, one by one, then codified them by usage, by mutual agreement, tribe by tribe, nation by nation. We went from «root,» «dig,» «fire,» «arrow,» to «multitask,» «irreverence,» and what is supposedly the most beautiful-sounding phrase in the English language, «cellar door.»
& Dina: To hell with them. Go ahead. Hear yourself say it. To hell with them. Say it because they don’t matter! They don’t. None of them! The work matters! It matters to get the work right and to get it right now, and that’s all that matters, because that’s what lasts, and you think you have all the time you need to learn and grow and create? You think you have all that time? You don’t! Nobody does! Nobody!
& Dina: Is everything a game to you?
Jack: Hardly anything.
& Jack: I can’t tell you how much I want us to put our mouths together.
& Answering machine: ’Please get to the point, and if this is Jack Marcus, good-bye.’
& Jack: You know, good-bye is actually a shortened version of God be with you. ... For now, so long. That, by the way, comes from salaam, which means peace be with you.
& Jack: Tell her I want to tear out my heart, I want to hand it to her, and I want to watch her eat it.
& Dina: Good-bye! And that has nothing to do with God!
& Jack: Irrepressibility.
Dina: Oh, for God’s sake.
Jack: Incorrigibility. They’re both sevens.
Dina: Masturbationalistic. Play with yourself.
& Tammy: «A picture is worth a thousand words.» Anonymous.
Cole: «There is no frigate like a book to take us lands away.» Emily Dickinson.
Emily: «A picture shows me at a glance what it takes dozens of pages of a book to expound.» Ivan Turgenev.
Cole: Shakespeare’s portrait appeared on his First Folio of plays with these words... «Reader, look not at his picture, but his book.»
Tammy: «What is the use of a book, thought Alice, without pictures?» Lewis Carroll.
Emily: «A picture is something that requires as much knavery, trickery, and deceit as the perpetration of a crime.» Edgar Degas.
--
On the IMDb
& Jack: Write, you droids!
& Dina: In this class, we’re interested in what we might call fine art. Fine art, whatever that means. The trouble is in the words. Don’t trust the words. The words are lies. The words are traps. We’re going to look, we’re going to feel, we’re going to see, we’re going to learn, until you can show me what fine art is, all right?
& Jack: Look at you. Twittering your friends in no more than 140 characters and saying what? Showered, you watched some shitty reality TV show, you ate a yogurt. You know, what if you had to say something meaningful in just three lines and about 17 syllables?
Morning and evening,Freidman: What is that about?
someone waits at Montsushima.
One-way love.
Jack: That’s about 400 years old, Freidman. It’s a Haiku, an early Tweet.
& Jack: You see, you use a computer, you click on the word «ant,» you get the data. Fine. You pick up a book and leaf through the pages to find the ant, you’re going to bump into a saint, an admiral, a poet, a town in Connecticut. You’re going to learn something outside of the assignment just because of your own undeniable and most valuable curiosity. You’re going to see a word, and you’re going to jump on it, or it’s going to jump on you. Then you have it forever.
& Jack: You know, if words are lies, then what’s the truth? A picture? Something you painted? Here’s a word for you. Arrogance.
Dina: And here’s a picture... Pfft!
& Jack: See, grunting is fine, but it only goes so far, and so are gestures and cave paintings. And so people out of necessity invented words, one by one, then codified them by usage, by mutual agreement, tribe by tribe, nation by nation. We went from «root,» «dig,» «fire,» «arrow,» to «multitask,» «irreverence,» and what is supposedly the most beautiful-sounding phrase in the English language, «cellar door.»
& Dina: To hell with them. Go ahead. Hear yourself say it. To hell with them. Say it because they don’t matter! They don’t. None of them! The work matters! It matters to get the work right and to get it right now, and that’s all that matters, because that’s what lasts, and you think you have all the time you need to learn and grow and create? You think you have all that time? You don’t! Nobody does! Nobody!
& Dina: Is everything a game to you?
Jack: Hardly anything.
& Jack: I can’t tell you how much I want us to put our mouths together.
& Answering machine: ’Please get to the point, and if this is Jack Marcus, good-bye.’
& Jack: You know, good-bye is actually a shortened version of God be with you. ... For now, so long. That, by the way, comes from salaam, which means peace be with you.
& Jack: Tell her I want to tear out my heart, I want to hand it to her, and I want to watch her eat it.
& Dina: Good-bye! And that has nothing to do with God!
& Jack: Irrepressibility.
Dina: Oh, for God’s sake.
Jack: Incorrigibility. They’re both sevens.
Dina: Masturbationalistic. Play with yourself.
& Tammy: «A picture is worth a thousand words.» Anonymous.
Cole: «There is no frigate like a book to take us lands away.» Emily Dickinson.
Emily: «A picture shows me at a glance what it takes dozens of pages of a book to expound.» Ivan Turgenev.
Cole: Shakespeare’s portrait appeared on his First Folio of plays with these words... «Reader, look not at his picture, but his book.»
Tammy: «What is the use of a book, thought Alice, without pictures?» Lewis Carroll.
Emily: «A picture is something that requires as much knavery, trickery, and deceit as the perpetration of a crime.» Edgar Degas.
--
On the IMDb
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