Cape Fear

American Horror Story. Double Feature: Red Tide

10×1

Doris Gardner: I think it's a little creepy.
Harry Gardner: Okay, well, you know, creepy can be beautiful.
Doris Gardner: Spoken like a true writer.

Martha: Welcome to Provincetown... Or P-town, as we call it. You know, the pilgrims landed here before they landed in Plymouth.

Alma Gardner: It looks haunted.
Harry Gardner: Every house in Provincetown is haunted, sweetheart. It's the ghosts of all the old whalers drowned at sea.

Doris Gardner: This is the perfect place for you to work without distraction and for me to get some real experience. I think it's gonna be fun.
Harry Gardner: Me too.
Doris Gardner: Like a babymoon.
Harry Gardner: Mm. Okay.

Harry Gardner: Uh, what did I do to deserve this?
Austin Summers: You have that look about you.
Harry Gardner: One that says I need a drink?
Austin Summers: One that says you need a positive review.
Belle Noir: We're fellow travelers. Warriors of words. Soldiers of syntax. Pugilists of prose.
Austin Summers: Writers.

Austin Summers: This place, it just, uh...
Belle Noir: Inspires us.

Harry Gardner: No, thanks. I don't like to get drunk during the day.
Austin Summers: Well, the key is to be drunk so often, you can't tell the difference between being drunk and sober. You're just drunk or... more drunk.

Harry Gardner: What are these?
Austin Summers: They don't have a name. Funny how we found a pill to help artists and writers but none of us have ever given it a name.

Harry Gardner: There's a catch. There's always a catch.
Austin Summers: You could have been a fucking English teacher or an adman or help run your daddy's sporting goods store...
Harry Gardner: My father was a lawyer.
Austin Summers: Yes, but you chose to be a writer. Because you don't really live in this world. You observe it. You interpret it. You feed off of it. And then you sit and you put words together so that the poor suckers who do live in the world can see what they look like, who they are, why they hurt. And you chose it because you want love and attention and barrels of money. It's fucking insane. But those are the only things that can fill that hole... in your soul. Hole... in your soul. Hole in your soul. Hole in your soul! Hole in your soul...

Austin Summers: Are you a real writer?... I don't think you are. 'Cause if you were... You wouldn't care what the price was for getting uncorked. You'd rather die than keep all of those wonderful words bottled up inside of you... Take the pill, Harry.

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