War Stories

Doc. Hollywood :

Good. Let's see what we've got. 

You're a lucky man, Mr. Whale. 

Whatever damage was done by your stroke, 

it left your motor abilities relatively unimpaired. 

James Whale :

Yes, Dr. Payne, but what about 

from the neck upwards? 

What's the story there? 

Doc. Hollywood :

That's what I'm trying to explain. 

The central nervous system 

selects items from a constant 

storm of sensations —

Whatever was killed in your stroke seems 

to have short-circuited this mechanism. 

James Whale :

So you're saying there's 

An Electrical Storm going on 

inside My Head. 

Doc. Hollywood :

Well, that's as good a way 

as any to describe it.

I've seen far worse cases. 

James Whale :

What about all The Rest? 

The killing headaches. 

The phantom smells. 

My inability to close my eyes,

without thinking of a hundred 

things simultaneously. 

Doc. Hollywood :

I've never encountered the 

olfactory hallucinations before, 

but I'm sure they're related. 

James Whale :

So, what do I do? 

Doc. Hollywood :

Take the Luminol to sleep... 

and whenever you feel 

an attack coming on. 

James Whale :

What you're saying is that this isn't 

just a case of resting until I'm better, 

but that my condition will continue 

to deteriorate until 

the end of my life?

Hold Him over The Volcano’s Edge

At the beginning of the Ian Fleming novel,

You Only Live Twice 

James Bond’s wife Tracy has been murdered. 

The Book follows his “rebirth”, 

when he is given a reputedly 

“impossible” mission.

This haikai no renga poem appears in Chapter 11 :

You only live Twice:

Once when you are Born

And once when you 

look Death in The Face.

Niska: 

[sing-songie] 

Mr. Reynolds...

[moans] 

Niska: 

You died, Mr. Reynolds.

Mal: 

Seemed like the thing to do.

Niska: 

When you die, 

I can't hurt you any more. 

And I want two days at least, minimum.

Book: 

Did you ever read the works of Shan Yu?

Simon: 

Shan Yu the psychotic dictator?

Sadistic crap legitimized by florid prose. 

Tell me you're not a fan.

Book: 

Yep. Fancied himself quite The Warrior Poet. 

Wrote volumes on War, Torture, 

The Limits of Human Endurance.

Simon: 

That's nice.

Jayne Cobb: 

I'm smellin' a lotta 'if' comin' off this plan.

Zoë Washburne: 

You could'a stayed in your bunk.

Jayne Cobb: 

Could'a, should'a, would'a.

[cocks rifle] 

Simon: 

Did you do anything today?

River Tam: 

Played with Kaylee. 

The Sun came out, and I walked on my feet 

and heard with my ears. 

I hate the bits, the bits that stay down and I work, 

I f-function like I'm A Girl. 

I hate it because I know it'll go away! 

The Sun grows Dark 

and Chaos has come again. 

It's... fluids. 

What am I?

Simon: 

You are My Beautiful Sister.

River Tam: 

I-I threw up on Your Bed.

Simon: 

Yep. Definitely My Sister.