Though things like this make me sick.

I want somebody to share the rest of my life, share my innermost thoughts, know my intimate details. Someone who'll stand by my side and give me support, and in return, she'll get my support.

She will listen to me when I want to speak about the world we live in and life in general. Though my views may be wrong (they may even be perverted) she will hear me out and won't easily be converted to my way of thinking. In fact she'll often disagree, but at the end of it all, she will understand me.

I want somebody who cares for me passionately with every thought and with every breath. Someone who'll help me see things in a different light; all the things I detest I will almost like.

I don't want to be tied to anyone's strings; I'm carefully trying to steer clear of those things. But when I'm asleep I want somebody who will put their arms around me and kiss me tenderly.

Though things like this make me sick, in a case like this I'll get away with it.

Somebody (Depeche Mode), M
artin L. Gore.


The tip of the spear.

Gentlemen, you are the top 1% of all naval aviators: the elite, the BEST of the best. We'll make you better. Fly at least two combat missions a day, attend classes in between, and evaluations of your performance. Now in each combat sequence you're going to meet a different challenge. Every encounter is going to be much more difficult. We're going to teach you to fly the F-14 right to the edge of the envelop, faster than you've every flown before, and more dangerous. Now, we don't make policy here, gentlemen. Elected officials, civilians, do that. We are the instruments of that policy. And although we're not at war, we must always act as though we are at war. We're the tip of the spear. In case some of you wonder who the best is, they're up here on this plaque on the wall. The best driver and his RIO from each class has his name on it. And they have the option to come back here to be Top Gun instructors. You think you're name's going to be on that plaque?

Top Gun (1986), Tony Scott.

The ability to bullshit.

It was the oddest, most unexpected thing. I began writing what they call a Mission Statement for my company. You know -a Mission Statement- a suggestion for the future. What started out as one page became twenty-five. Suddenly I was my father's son. I was remembering the simple pleasures of this job, how I ended up here out of law school, the way a stadium sounds when one of my players performs well on the field... I was remembering even the words of the late Dicky Fox, the original sports agent, who said: The key to this job is personal relationships. Hey, I'll be the first to admit it. What I was writing was somewhat "touchy feely." I didn't care. I had lost the ability to bullshit. It was the me I'd always wanted to be.

Jerry Maguire (1996), Cameron Crowe.



-La inspiración acude cuando se pegan los codos a la mesa, el culo a la silla y se empieza a sudar. Elige un tema, una idea, y exprímete el cerebro hasta que te duela. Eso se llama inspiración.

El Juego del Ángel, Carlos Ruiz Zafón.

Simple y pura biología.

-Está en nuestra naturaleza sobrevivir. La fe es una respuesta instintiva a aspectos de la existencia que no podemos explicar de otro modo, bien sea el vacío moral que percibimos en el universo, la certeza de la muerte, el misterio el origen de las cosas o el sentido de nuestra propia vida, o la ausencia de él. Son aspectos elementales y de extraordinaria sencillez, pero nuestras propias limitaciones nos impiden responder de un modo inequívoco a esa preguntas y por ese motivo generamos, como defensa, una respuesta emocional. Es simple y pura biología.

El Juego del Ángel, Carlos Ruiz Zafón.

Todo es un cuento.

-Todo es un cuento , Martín. Lo que creemos, lo que conocemos, lo que recordamos e incluso lo que soñamos. Todo es un cuento, una narración, una secuencia de sucesos y personajes que comunican un contenido emocional. Un acto de fe es un acto de aceptación, aceptación de una historia que se nos cuenta. Sólo aceptamos como verdadero aquello que puede ser narrado...

El Juego del Ángel, Carlos Ruiz Zafón.

Hair grows even after you're dead.

Imagine you go away on a business trip one day and when you come back home your children have grown and you never made your wife moan, and people make you nervous. You'd think the world was ending and everybody's features have somehow started blending. And everything is plastic, and everyone's sarcastic, and all your food is frozen; it needs to be defrosted.

Well maybe you should just drink a lot less coffee, and never ever watch the 10 o'clock news. Maybe you should kiss someone nice or lick a rock or both. Maybe you should cut your own hair cause that can be so funny, it doesn't cost any money and it always grows back. Hair grows even after you're dead.

The Ghost of Corporate Future, Regina Spektor.