Winter Kills

American Horror Story. Double Feature: Red Tide

10×6

Holden Vaughn: First of all, your name is Levy. I don't know where you get off owning not one but two Irish pubs. That's called cultural appropriation, sweetheart. Second of all, you have terrible taste. And not just in your footwear.

Austin Summers: These fucking Hollywood people have no decency!
Belle Noir: And no self-control. That beast of a man gave the pills to his child. It makes you think that maybe some of that QAnon business about them being satanic baby-killers is based in some fact.

Holden Vaughn: The council asked me to convey a message: "Get rid of the troublemakers, or all of you are suddenly gonna find yourself going into some very annoying zoning issues, including painting all of the curbs in front of your houses red and declaring all of your domiciles as historic landmarks which means that even to change a bulb will take a six-week approval process."

Holden Vaughn: You know, I stopped Burger King from opening in this town. I can stop you too...

Harry Gardner: So what do you think?
Ursula: Well... I think you should kill yourself. Because you will never write anything this good... no one will. No one has.

Harry Gardner: I don't want to have to kill anymore. I just want to raise you and enjoy the fruits of what we've accomplished this year and maybe over time get some of my soul back.
Ursula: Yeah, it doesn't work that way, bubbulah. Once you sell your soul, it's gone.
Harry Gardner: I don't want to believe that.
Ursula: Because you're framing it as a bad thing, but it is not. It's freedom. Why have a conscience or a moral code anymore? You're above all of that. This is what success feels like, Harry, It feels like superiority.

Alma Gardner: Insane Brainz Memory Boost...
Harry Gardner: It's supposed to be cutting edge.
Alma Gardner: I guess it's because "brains" is spelled with a Z instead of an S. I feel the boost already.

Alma Gardner: Chicken-shit little bitch.
Ursula: I am digging deep in my soul to find the small sliver of goodness that will allow me to overlook what you just said. Hear me out...

Ursula: Look, I know this sucks, okay? I know you got a raw deal. But you are not monsters. You're a bunch of Laurence Fishburnes. Fishburne turned down "Pulp Fiction" because his agent told him he'd be working with John Travolta... a has-been. Now, look, you all made a very bad call, but it is not the end of the story. Fishburne went on to beat out Sam Jackson for "The Matrix". The moral of the story is that sometimes there are second chances.

Harry Gardner: I don't need the pills anymore. It's the truth!
Belle Noir: You forget you're talking to a fellow writer. Uh... correction: Novelists are writers. Screenwriters are more like creative typists. Really, all we are is professional liars. And the truth is whatever we decide it is.

Harry Gardner: Thank you. Now tell me how the fuck you did that.
Ursula: Well, sometimes it's best not to ask how the sausage is made. Just know that I would do anything for my favorite client.

Ursula: First, we set you up in La La Land so you can start cranking out your pills. There's a whole city bursting with talent just waiting to shell out for a boost.

Alma Gardner: Do you mind? I don't like people watching me while I eat.

Alma Gardner: You shouldn't be messing with police.
The Chemist: I'm sorry, didn't you kill and eat a cop?
Alma Gardner: That was out of necessity.
The Chemist: What I'm doing is out of necessity too. Every one of those pricks had no business protecting and serving. Racist, sadistic garbage.

The Chemist: You're creating a lot of pale people. Especially pushing pills at a Starbucks. No self-respecting writer writes at a Starbucks.
Alma Gardner: So what? If they're talentless, they're useless anyway.
Ursula: That's my girl. I can't believe you turned out so well being raised by Harry and that glass of warm oat milk.

Rory: You're a novelty. A distraction. Audiences will come to see you and get bummed out if you're not featured. It's bad for morale. Makes it impossible to play anything that doesn't have a violin solo. It becomes a freakshow... We play classical music. We are as square as we can be. You're the bearded fucking lady, kid.

Ursula Khan: A writer once said, "Writing is easy. Just sit at your desk, open a vein, and bleed"...

Ursula Khan: Greatness comes with a price. And you just have to ask yourself, how much do you want it? Are you ready to bleed?! Are you?

Ursula Khan: Now, it looks like a pill, but it's not. It's the key to condos in Malibu, to dinner meetings with Charlize, to reservations at the Tower Bar. Tell yourself it's a vitamin. A sugar pill placebo packed with Satan. Just don't say no.

Ursula Khan: Everything you've heard is bullshit. Reality isn't the choice between the blue pill and the red pill. It's the black pill. This pill. My special vitamin brain sauce stimulant with zero risk and maximum upside.

Ursula Khan: I'm gonna tell you a little something about success that is the bedrock of this dirty business that no one else wants to admit. It's just one swallow away. Spit or swallow... the choice is yours.

Ursula Khan: It looks like the streets are running red with blood and metaphors. At least all of those no-talent monsters are taking their pain out in a real way.

Ursula Khan: Being great is hard. The rest of us just don't get it. We drive ourselves crazy with envy longing for just a taste of the delicious madness of the creative mind. But the truth is, most people aren't willing to put in the work. They focus on the success, the notoriety, the wealth that their great piece of art will bring. But the journey there is tedious. And those that achieve greatness only do so because they are fucked up enough to push through the pain and failure it takes to reach your potential.

Ursula Khan: At least with these pills the world can find out if you're any good.

The Chemist: Sorry, baby. Shh, don't cry. We're gonna move on to another place, create another drug... maybe one that will make you and I live forever. Mommy's here. She's on top of it.

Ursula Khan: To be told we are talented, isn't that all we ever want?...

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