I’ll always remember you riding the chariot in Ben-Hur with that grin on your face.
Who other than Tolkien could write oratory such as this:
Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my Brothers!
I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. The day may come when the courage of men fails, we forsake our friends, and we break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day.
An hour of woes and shattered shields when the age of Men comes crashing down, but it is not this day.
This day we fight!
By all that you hold dear, from this good earth, I bid you stand! Men of the West!
In today’s Slate, Christopher Hitchens writes of Fahrenheit 9/11:
To describe this film as dishonest and demagogic would almost be to promote those terms to the level of respectability. To describe this film as a piece of crap would be to run the risk of a discourse that would never again rise above the excremental. To describe it as an exercise in facile crowd-pleasing would be too obvious. Fahrenheit 9/11 is a sinister exercise in moral frivolity, crudely disguised as an exercise in seriousness. It is also a spectacle of abject political cowardice masking itself as a demonstration of “dissenting” bravery.
I don’t think Mr. Hitchen’s liked the movie.
And people ask me why I don’t like Michael Moore’s films – now you know.
As the moon lingers a moment over the bitterroots before its descent
into the invisible, my mind is filled with song. I find I am humming,
softly, not to the music, but to somethign else. Someplace else. A
A field of grass where no one seemed to have been, except for the deer.
And the memory is strengthed by the memory of you – dancing in my awkward