“For the first month of Ricardo and Felicity’s affair, they greeted one another at every stolen rendezvous with a kiss—a lengthy, ravenous kiss, Ricardo lapping and sucking at Felicity’s mouth as if she were a giant cage-mounted water bottle and he were the world’s thirstiest gerbil.”—The 2010 Bulwer-Lytton fiction contest winners.
“John Isner’s serving arm has fallen off. Nicolas Mahut’s head is loose and rolling bonelessly on his neck. And yet still they play on. The score is now 21-21 in the fifth and final set. This is now, officially, the longest final set in Wimbledon history.”—Live-blogging the longest tennis match. Hilarity ensues. Skip down to 4:05 for the good stuff to start.
“I think an ideal bromance with Danzig would begin with dinner at Medieval Times. It seems that tearing apart whole chickens with our bare hands and guzzling red wine from ornate chalices while discussing the current dark age of music would be a pleasant evening. And if Danzig got bored, he could always compare notes with the competing knights about maces, gauntlets, and claw gloves.”—A series of interviews about Glenn Danzig.
“After a lovely courtship/disdain-ship, in which you professed so profusely your desire to marry for no one but yourself, with no thought but love, there seems to be no marriage. You marry and that’s it? I want to know what the rest of life is like for Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. I hope there are no zombies in your version.”—Letters with character.
“What about the movie geeks? What about the people who want to be wowed by a film, who want to walk into a theater and fall in love with a film? Show me something interesting, show me something smart. Wow me with art. Make me think. Make me smile. Make me cry. It’s been done. It’s been done so well, in fact, that I’ve become a film junkie, a man addicted to good movies.”—The cinephile’s lament.
“We need to remember that a book—or a painting or a piece of music—begins as the product of an individual imagination, and can retain its power even when largely or even entirely ignored.”—"Alone, with Words."
“The title song, and the best number in the movie, is set at night; Kelly is alone, for the most part, doing what you would expect. He is impervious to the elements because of his cheerful mood. Beyond the intricacy of the dance, perhaps one of the reasons why that scene is so indelible is because it’s what so many Americans, like Betty, wanted from the movies: a quick respite from the hard rain falling outside, alone, in the dark.”—