Benjamin R. Smith Quotes

Sentiment isn't a bad thing.

Oh Ward, you animal. It gets me so hot and squishy when you call it intercourse.

Stay out of this, buddy. You're lucky I'm not booking you for that F-word you let slip. America doesn't tolerate that kind of potty-mouthing.

Why the testicles are we listing sex organs?

A boy and a girl, a man and a woman, a pervert and a slut ...

You've missed the bus. Are you calling in sick again? It's the second time in two years. The boss will frown upon it.

On a wing and a prayer. (After being asked how the angels make love in Milton's Paradise Lost).

Writing Vampire Erotica is like writing sex scenes for porcupines.

Hug your nightmares.

SEN. McCARTHY: You will teach morality, ethics, and good house-keeping to these 48 states, and to the world. By order of this committee, June Cleaver, you will be a beacon! You will sire the future and teach it what we tell you to teach it! Echo effect, echo effect, echo effect ...

It's a big spooky place when you're in it alone. It's like you can hear all the whispers of all the voices of all the actors who ever played here. Kind of creepy. Like a church can be creepy when it's empty. You ever been in a church after hours?

JUNE: My mother always said, "Why should a man buy a cow when he can get the milk for free?"
WARD: I don't think your mother is very bright.

Madness doesn't get off wearing gloves. It needs to feel skin on skin, smell the blood and shit as it brings itself off.

I built them what they wanted and I made a profit off of it. Now they call me a god ... What fools these mortals be.

After a good roll in the hay, when he's all peaceful and serene and he hasn't a worry or a care in the world, and the euphoric calm of release is drifting through his cerebrum, that's when you broadside him with the cold cruel fact that his life as he knows it is over!

I see a cathedral, for instance, one that's stood for centuries and I marvel and I wonder ... How many people passed through the doors? What did they pray for? How many wars did they wish to see ended? How many christenings, weddings, and funerals? Same thing with a record, I guess. Who bought it? Did they ever make love while it was playing? How many times did they read the notes in the cover? Did a song on the album change their life? I suppose it's odd to think about things like that.

WARD: I'll be home in time for dinner, honey.
JUNE: Alright - I'm pregnant - Have a fine day at work, dear.
WARD exits ... WARD reenters.
JUNE: Did you forget something, dear?
WARD: What did you say?
JUNE: I asked if you'd forgotten anything -

The first morning I really sat and watched him it was a Tuesday. I know that because Tuesday is trash day for our neighborhood. Unlike me, he leaves gathering up his trash for the morning of pickup instead of doing it the night before. My alarm went off at 6 AM and I went in to start the coffee maker, and as I went about selecting a bit of fruit from the bowl on my kitchen table I looked out the window. It was just a casual glance, and the human eye is attracted to movement.

?-: Yes, I must say, that part distressed me a bit. I had no idea girls could do that ...
(JUNE and RUTH look at him.)
RUTH: Do what, exactly?
?-: Be nude. I thought they just spontaneously combusted or something if they even tried taking off their sweaters.
JUNE: But, how did you think we bathed?
?-: I just assumed you just never got dirty, with the exception of your hair. You know, cause girls are always washing their hair ...
JUNE: But this is ridiculous. How did you think sex happened?
?-: To be honest, I'd never really thought about sex. Oh, dear ... Am I going to have to do that someday? Are we? I need to read up on this.
(He takes out a memorandum and begins scribbling.)

The Angel of Death is always a young person, or a group of young people, you'll begin seeing them left and right soon.

What's wrong with your father? Huh? Can't he do this? Or have you been reading Freud? WARD, have you been reading the baby Freud?

I haven't got time for a love life and that's usually frustrating to the would-be lovers. Care to make a run for it?

And when he was suddenly gone -- no, not just gone, dead in every possible meaning of the word to me because of what he had done -- I found doubt. And what's more than that, I found my own slow spiral downward into the depths of hell. A world where shadows scared me, and the thought of people with their eyes looking through me, seeing what I really was underneath all of this shine and polish. When one domino falls, others follow and that is where I was. That is where I'd been until yesterday morning, when suddenly I was in the rain, looking out at a sea of those same faces that terrified me and I saw you.

At the end of the day, a choice was made and it wasn't ours. So why get all bugabooed about it?

Since you haven't got a name," he said. "I guess you can pick one for yourself. Would you like to pick one for me to write down?"
She stopped rocking and looked at him. "I can do that? It's legal and everything?"
He smiled. "It's a free country again," he said. "At least in theory."
She nodded. "And when I pick a name it can be any name I want?"
He nodded.
"What's your name?"
"Victor," he said. "Vic, for short."
"Okay," she said, leaning forward and taking the pad from under his large thing hands. "How do you spell that?"
He spelled it and she wrote it down. Her handwriting was perfectly small and legible. "Can I be Victor, too?" she said, looking up from the pad.
He smirked. "It's a boy's name," he said. "You're a girl. You have to add an i and an a to the end if you want to make it a girl's name."
She looked down at the name she had written and added the letters i and a to the end. "Victoria," she said, passing the notepad back to the cop.
"Hello, Victoria," he said, smiling, taking the pad and pen back and presenting his hand for a shake. "It's nice to meet you, officially.

When I was a kid, they had a saying, 'to err is human but to really fuck it up takes a computer.'

All around the smell of that necro-smoke, that nether-weed. And up and at the hedonist impulse, rejoice, rejoice, in the disconnect my pretty things, fly monkeys, fly! The hip chick in the back, her legs uncrossed to let in air and let out pretention as the lights are down and it's not necessary, nor should it be even with the lights up, all around faces, turned away and yet minds knowing, knowing there is a presence, a power about the room, the charge is different than it was before this small chick came in. Rejoice, simpatico, rejoice. It's her night. A night of the explosion. Pow - bang-ka-boom and yet it's whispered and yet it's heard through the walls at 3 A.M. by attentive ears and hands clenching in the frustration of being unsolicited by the owner of this spectacle. A woman's sigh of ecstasy, and his tears at being not the cause.

Several things ran through my head as I watched this silent ballet: First, I was running low on pears, my favorite morning fruit. Second, I, as a woman, am much smarter than men, I having displayed foresight this male apparently lacked in regards to trash day. And finally, I desperately needed to see more of this man in his boxers.

I'm going to become a beat poet and a lesbian!

Human's aren't concerned with reality, merely their perceptions of it.

Nice dress," Victoria said.
"Thank you," Perpetua said. "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"
Victoria blinked. "Uh, what?

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