Tom Hanks Monologues

There's gotta be something other than being a fisherman and kidnapping people.

You said this was just business. Is this business? Is this how you do business?

Listen up. We have been boarded by four armed pirates. You know the drill. We stay hidden no matter what. I don't want any hostages. We stay locked down until help arrives. No one comes out until you hear the non-duress password from me which is "suppertime."

If the pirates find you, remember, you know this ship. They don't. Make them feel like they're in charge but keep them away from the important things like the generator and the engine controls. Stick together… and we'll be all right. Good luck.

You're not just a fisherman! You're not just a fisherman!

They sure are. I'll tell you something. It's not gonna be easy for our kids. They'll be going into a different world than the one you and I came into.

See all those words printed in a line one after the other? Put 'em all together and you have a story.

"And within moments the entire wedding congregation was digging. Finally, poor Alfred Blackstone was pulled from the earth very much alive."

And from his widow Blackstone's embrace, Alfred turned to the groom and said, and I quote, "Feller, when you get in that church and she says 'Till death us do part'... don't you believe a word of it!"

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. It's good to be back with you all here in Wichita Falls. My name is Captain Jefferson Kyle Kidd, and I'm here tonight to bring you news from across this great world of ours. Now, I know how life is in these parts, working a trade sunup to sundown. No time for reading newspapers. Am I correct?

Let me do that work for you. And maybe, just for tonight, we can escape our troubles, and hear the great changes that are happening out there. Starting local, then. Our own Houston Telegraph from the first of February, this news. "The meningitis epidemic continues to spread without prejudice across the Panhandle and North Texas region. So far, it has claimed ninety-seven souls in just a two-month period."

The News. I read the news for anyone with 10 cents in his time to hear it.

See all these words printed in a line one after the other? Put'em all together and you have a story.

Houston, we have a problem.

Gentlemen, it's been a privilege flying with you.

We just put Sir Isaac Newton in the driver's seat.

Our mission was called "a successful failure," in that we returned safely but never made it to the moon. In the following months, it was determined that a damaged coil built inside the oxygen tank sparked during our cryo stir and caused the explosion that crippled the Odyssey. It was a minor defect that occured two years before I was even named the flight's commander. Fred Haise was going back to the moon on Apollo 18, but his mission was cancelled because of budget cuts; he never flew in space again. Nor did Jack Swigert, who left the astronaut corps and was elected to Congress from the state of Colorado. But he died of cancer before he was able to take office. Ken Mattingly orbited the moon as Command Module Pilot of Apollo 16, and flew the Space Shuttle, having never gotten the measles. Gene Kranz retired as Director of Flight Operations just not long ago. And many other members of Mission Control have gone on to other things, but some are still there. As for me, the seven extraordinary days of Apollo 13 were my last in space. I watched other men walk on the moon, and return safely, all from the confines of Mission Control and our house in Houston. I sometimes catch myself looking up at the moon, remembering the changes of fortune in our long voyage, thinking of the thousands of people who worked to bring the three of us home. I look up at the moon, and wonder, when will we be going back, and who will that be?

Uh well, I'll tell ya, I remember this one time - I'm in a Banshee at night in combat conditions, so there's no running lights on the carrier. It was the Shrangri-La, and we were in the Sea of Japan and my radar had jammed, and my homing signal was gone... because somebody in Japan was actually using the same frequency. And so it was - it was leading me away from where I was supposed to be. And I'm lookin' down at a big, black ocean, so I flip on my map light, and then suddenly: zap. Everything shorts out right there in my cockpit. All my instruments are gone. My lights are gone. And I can't even tell now what my altitude is. I know I'm running out of fuel, so I'm thinking about ditching in the ocean. And I, I look down there, and then in the darkness there's this uh, there's this green trail. It's like a long carpet that's just laid out right beneath me. And it was the algae, right? It was that phosphorescent stuff that gets churned up in the wake of a big ship. And it was - it was - it was leading me home. You know? If my cockpit lights hadn't shorted out, there's no way I'd ever been able to see that. So uh, you, uh, never know... what... what events are to transpire to get you home.

From now on, we live in a world where man has walked on the moon. And it's not a miracle, we just decided to go.

Houston, we're getting our first look at the service module now. One whole side of the spacecraft is missing. Right by the high gain antennae, a whole panel is blown out, right up... right up to our heat shield.

Hello, Houston. This is Odyssey. It's good to see you again.

Well... if I had a dollar for every time they've killed me in this thing, I wouldn't have to work for you, Deke... Well, we have two days, we'll be ready. Let's do it again.

All right, we're not doing this, gentlemen. We are *not* going to do this. We're not going to go bouncing off the walls for ten minutes, 'cause we're just going to end up back here with the same problems! Try to figure out how to stay alive!

Houston, we are venting something out into space. I can see it outside window one right now. It's definitely a... a gas of some sort.

It's got to be the oxygen.

All right, we're not doing this, gentlemen. We are *not* doing this. We're not going to go bouncing off the walls for ten minutes, 'cause we're just going to end up back here with the same problems! Try to figure out how to stay alive!

Uh, Ken Mattingly has been doing some… scientific experiments regarding that very phenomenon, haven't you?

Just a little while longer Freddo. Just a little while longer, we're gonna hit that water in the South Pacific. Open up that hatch. It's 80 degrees out there.

Well, I'll tell you something about that fire, a lot of things went wrong. The door, called the hatch? They couldn't get it open when they needed to get out. That was one thing. Well, a lot of things went wrong.

Okay, uh, good evening, America, and welcome aboard Apollo 13. I'm Jim Lovell, and we're broadcasting to you tonight from an altitude of almost 200,000 miles away from the… the face of the Earth, and we have a pretty good show in store for you tonight. We are going to show you just what, uh, life is like for the three of us in the vast expanse of outer space.

Okay, one of the first things we'd like to do is provide you with the appropriate background music. So, uh, hit it there, Freddo.

That, uh, was supposed to be the theme to "2001", in honor of our command module Odyssey, but there seems to have been a last-minute change in the program.

Houston, uh, we… we sure could use the re-entry procedure up here. When can we expect that?

Uh, Houston, we… we… we just can't just throw this together at the last minute. So here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna get the procedure up to us, whatever it is, and we're gonna go over it step by step so that there's no foul-ups. I don't have to tell you we're all a little tired up here. The world's getting awfully big in the window.

Houston, we're at stable one. The ship is secure. This is Apollo 13 signing off.

Uh, we copy, uh, Houston. Be advised, it's gonna take Freddo and I a while to power up the computer for the, uh, alignment platform if we have to fire the engine.

This is it; a few bumps and we're haulin' the mail.

Do you like opera?

This is my favorite aria. This is Maria Callas. This is "Andrea Chenier", Umberto Giordano. This is Madeleine. She's saying how during the French Revolution, a mob set fire to her house, and her mother died... saving her. "Look, the place that cradled me is burning." Can you hear the heartache in her voice? Can you feel it, Joe? In come the strings, and it changes everything. The music fills with a hope, and that'll change again. Listen... listen..."I bring sorrow to those who love me." Oh, that single cello! "It was during this sorrow that love came to me." A voice filled with harmony. It says, "Live still, I am life. Heaven is in your eyes. Is everything around you just the blood and mud? I am divine. I am oblivion. I am the god... that comes down from the heavens, and makes of the Earth a heaven. I am love!... I am love."

I... many things... uh... uh... What I love the most about the law?

It's that every now and again - not often, but occasionally - you get to be a part of justice being done. That really is quite a thrill when that happens.

Subsequent decisions have held that AIDS is protected as a handicap under law, not only because of the physical limitations it imposes, but because the prejudice surrounding AIDS exacts a social death which precede... which precedes the actual physical one.

That's not the point from the day they hired me to the day they fired me, I served my clients consistency thoroughly with absolute excellency if they hadn't fired me that's what I've be doing today.

"I misplaced an important compliant" that's their story my side of the story is: the night before it was due I worked on the compliant in my office and I left a copy of it on my desk, the next day the compliant vanished no hard copy, all traces of it mysteriously gone from my computer, miraculously a copy was located at the last minute and we got it to court on time but the next day I was summoned to a meeting with the managing partners who were waiting for me in the conference room

This 'pestilent dust' that council refers to has appeared on only three occasions. Each time it was tested and the results: limestone. It's messy, but innocuous.

Y-Your honor, Kendell Construction builds neighborhoods; it doesn't *destroy* them. Granting a restraining order against this construction site will throw 753 Philadelphians out of work and lend validation to this contemptable groundless nuisance suit. It's an example of the rapacious litigation that, today, is tearing at the very fabric of our society.

No. I loved you both the same.

Was I?

Well, I suppose it was because Peter was just… such a sweet little boy, you know? And you… you were more like me. And I… didn't want you to be.

He murdered Annie and Peter!

Actually, I'm making a withdrawal.

And I want dirty money only, everything you're holding for Capone that's off the books. Open the safe.

The name's Sullivan. You want me to spell it?

If I'm not back in half an hour, you go see Reverend Lynch at First Methodist and you tell him what's happened. Do NOT go to Father Callaway.

Your mother knows I love Mr. Rooney. When we had nothing, he gave us a home… a life… and we owe him.

Look out for the tractor, Mike. Michael... look out for the tractor. You're coming up now. Watch out for the tractor. Watch out for the tractor! Watch out for the tractor!

When I say "get down", you get down. You don't ask questions. When I say we're stopping to eat, you stay with me. You listen to me from now on! Or you start taking care of yourself.

Stop it, Michael. It was not your fault! None of this is your fault!

I can't take you there. Not now.

He knows that's where we're going.

Something I can't do alone. You have to listen to me now, okay? Or else both of us are dead. I can make Capone give up Connor. Now, there's one thing Chicago loves more than anything and that's their money. They've got it in banks all over the state. We're gonna have to find it and take it. Are you gonna help me?

Then I have to teach you something.

That's for you. Call it a handling charge. Tell Chicago I took it, but if read about this in the papers, if I read about the savings of some innocent farmers being wiped out by a heartless bank robber, I won't be happy. Good afternoon.

To Chicago. There's a man there who runs things. I've done some work for him. We have to find out where he stands. Try to get some sleep.

This house is not our home anymore. It's just an empty building.

Tomorrow, when they find out we're gone, they're gonna come after us. I have to protect you now.

Madam, we must have waffles! We must all have waffles forthwith! We must all think, and we must all have waffles, and think each and every one of us to the very best of his ability...

And what, to flog a horse, that if not dead is at this point in mortal danger of expiring, does this little square represent?

Madam, or rather, mesdames, you must accept our apologies for not bein' able to perform, for, as you see, we are shorthanded. Gawain is still at work, and we could no more play with one part tacit than a horse could canter shy one leg. Perhaps I could offer, as a poor but ready substitute, a brief poetic recital. Though I do not pretend to any great oratorical skills, I would be happy to present, with your ladies' permission, verse from the unquiet mind of Mr. Edgar Allan Poe. Ladies, thy beauty is to me like those Nicean barks of yore, that gently, o'er a perfumed sea, the weary, wayworn wanderer bore, to his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, thy Naiad airs have brought me home to the glory that was Greece and the grandeur that was Rome.

Well... uh... properly speaking, madam, we are surprised. You are taken aback. Though I do acknowledge that the sense that you intend is gaining increasing currency through its use, yes.

Oh, indeed, indeed. The thirst for knowledge is a very commendable thing. Though I do believe that when you hear the explanation you shall laugh riotously, slappin' your knee and perhaps even wipin' away a giddy tear, relieved of your former concern. Lump here is an avid collector of Indian arrowheads, and having found one simply lying on your cellar floor - a particularly rare artifact of the Natchez tribe?

He enlisted the entire ensemble in an all-out effort to sift through the subsoil in search of others. And apparently, in doing so, we hit a mother lode of natural gas. I myself became acutely aware of the smell of "rotten eggs." And it was just at this inopportune moment that the General here violated the cardinal rule of this house and lit himself a cigarette.

Who only just remortgaged his home in order to raise the money for a surgical procedure that will correct the wandering eye of his common-law wife, Mountain Water, who suffers from astigmia, strabismus and a general curdling of the vitreous jelly. Mr. Pancake is an ardent foe of the Federal Reserve, and is, in fact, one of those eccentrics one often reads about hoardin' his entire life savings, in Mr. Pancake's case, in a Hefty bag that is his constant companion. The Steel Sak.

To penetrate the vault here this afternoon, while Mrs. Munson is at church, havin' blasted that little old rock to pieces durin' Mrs. Munson's choir practice. Garth, can you run us through the game plan for what remains of our tunnel?

And will you be able to wield the drill with your maimed extremity?

You, madam, are addressing a man, who is in fact quiet… and yet, not quiet, if I may offer to you a riddle.

What do you think, General? Present any problems? Good then. Gentlemen, why don't we crowd around and go over the plan? Gentlemen, this is the Bandit Queen. Gambling den. Cash cow. Sodom of the Mississippi Delta and the focus of our little exercise. Here is Orchard Street. Here is the residence of Marva Munson, the charming lady whom you all met moments ago. Gentlemen, I'm sure you're all aware that the Solons of the state of Mississippi, to wit, its legislature, have decreed that no gaming establishment shall be erected within its borders upon dry land. They may, however, legally float. While the gambling activity is restricted to these riverboats, no such restrictions apply to the functions ancillary to this cash-besotted business. The casino's offices, locker rooms, facilities to cook and clean, and, most importantly, its counting houses, the reinforced, secret, super-secure repositories of the lucre, may all be situated… wherever. Gawain, where is "wherever"?

Ha! Underground! Mmm! Underground. During the casino's hours of operation, the door to this counting room is fiercely guarded. The door itself is of redoubtable Pittsburgh steel. When the casino closes this entire underground complex is locked up, and the armed guard retreats to the casino's main entrance. There, then, far from the guard, reposes the money, behind a five-inch-thick steel portal, yes. But the walls… the walls are but humble masonry behind which is only the soft, loamy soil deposited over centuries by the Old Man, the meanderin' Mississippi, as it fanned its way back and forth across the great alluvial plain, leaving earth. This earth. The General here, whose curriculum vitae comprehends massive tunnelin' experience through the soil of his native French Indochina, shall be directin' our little old tunnelin' operation. Garth Pancake, though a master of none, is a jack of all those trades corollary to our aim. He will be doin' such fabricatin' and demolition work - as our little caper shall require.

Gawain is our proverbial "inside man." He has managed to secure himself a berth on the stodial staff of the Bandit Queen.

And this brings us to Lump. To look at Lump, you might wonder what specialized expertise could he possibly offer our merry little old band of miscreants. Well, gentlemen, in a project of such risks, it is imperative to enlist the services of a hooligan, a goon, an ape, a physical brute. Someone who will be our security, our battering ram, our blunt instrument. And, on our behalf, I wish him a warm Mississippi welcome.

Well, gentlemen, here you are. Men of different backgrounds and differing talents. Men with, in fact, but two things in common: One, you all saw fit to answer my advertisement in the Memphis Scimitar, and two, you're all going to be, in consequence, very, very, incredibly… rich. Let us revel in our adventure, gentlemen. Let us make beautiful music together, and, by all means, let us keep this to ourselves. What we say in this root cellar, let it stay in this root cellar.

Yes, I must confess. I often find myself more at home in these ancient volumes than I do in the hustle-bustle of the modern world. To me, paradoxically, the literature of the so-called "dead tongues" holds more currency than this morning's newspaper. In these books, in these volumes, there is the accumulated wisdom of mankind, which succors me when the day is hard and the night lonely and long.

Oh… Yes, yes. The Good Book, mm. I have found reward in its pages. But, to me, there are other good books as well. Heavy volumes of antiquity freighted with the insights of man's glorious age. And then, of course, I just love, love, love the works of Mr. Edgar Allan Poe.

No, madam, no, no. Not of this world, it's true. He... he lived in a dream. An ancient dream. Helen, thy beauty is to me like those Nicean barks of yore, that gently, o'er a perfumed sea, the weary, wayworn wanderer bore to his own native shore.

One doesn't know who Helen was... but I picture her as being very, very... extremely... pale. Mrs. Munson, I have been trying to figure out some way of expressin' my gratitude to you for takin' in this weary, wayworn wanderer. It's just a little old present. Why, it's hardly anything at all.

Oh, madam, I blush, I melt. No… I just happened to hear of this gospel concert tomorrow night, "The Mighty, Mighty Clouds of Joy", and I thought you and a friend from church perhaps would…?

Perhaps if you apologize to the man, gave him flowers… uh… perhaps a fruit basket with a card depicting a misty seascape and inscribed with a sentiment.

Surely a chocolate assortment has been known to melt the heart of even the hardest misanthrope.

I also hold a number of other advanced degrees, including the baccalaureate from a school in Paris, France, called the Sorbonne.

This is the original icon for male. It's a rudimentary phallus.

This is know as the blade. It represents aggression and manhood. It's a symbol still used today in modern military uniforms.

Nobody hates history. They hate their own histories.

What will you do? The legend will be revealed when the heir reveals himself.

Okay, maybe there is no proof. Maybe the Grail is lost forever. But, Sophie, the only thing that matters is what you believe. History shows us Jesus was an extraordinary man. A human inspiration. That's it. That's all the evidence has ever proved. But... When I was a boy... When I was down in that well Teabing told you about... I thought I was going to die, Sophie. And what I did... , I prayed. I prayed... to Jesus... to keep me alive so I could see my parents again, so I could go to school again, so I could play with my dog. Sometimes I wonder if I wasn't alone down there. Why does it have to be human or divine? Maybe human is divine. Why couldn't Jesus have been a father and still be capable of all those miracles?

Well, who knows? His blood is your blood. Maybe that junkie in the park will never touch a drug again. Maybe you healed my phobia with my hands.

Well, who knows? His blood is your blood. Maybe that junkie in the park will never touch a drug again. Maybe you healed my phobia with my hands.

"The Holy Grail 'neath ancient Roslin waits / The blade and chalice guarding o'er Her gates / Adorned by masters' loving art, She lies / She rests at last beneath the starry skies."

There was every orb conceivable on that tomb except one. The orb which fell from the heavens and inspired Newton's life's work. Work that incurred the wrath of the Church... until his dying day. A-P-P-L-E. Apple.

"In London lies a knight a Pope interred / His labor's fruit a Holy wrath incurred / You seek the orb that ought be on his tomb / It speaks of Rosy flesh and seeded womb."

I hope not. Any Priory story ends in bloodshed. They were butchered by the Church. It all started over a thousand years ago when a French king conquered the holy city of Jerusalem. This crusade, one of the most massive and sweeping in history, was actually orchestrated by a secret brotherhood, the Priory of Sion and their military arm, the Knights Templar.

That was a cover to hide their true goal, according to this myth. Supposedly the invasion was to find an artifact lost since the time of Christ. An artifact, it was said, the Church would kill to possess.

Put it this way: One day the Templars simply stopped searching. They quit the Holy Land and traveled directly to Rome. Whether they blackmailed the papacy or the Church bought their silence, no one knows. But it is a fact the papacy declared these Priory knights, these Knights Templar, of limitless power. By the 1300s, the Templars had grown too powerful. Too threatening. So the Vatican issued secret orders to be opened simultaneously all across Europe. The Pope had declared the Knights Templar Satan worshipers and said God had charged him with cleansing the earth of these heretics. The plan went off like clockwork. The Templars were all but exterminated. The date was October 13th, 1307. A Friday.

The Pope sent troops to claim the Priory's treasure, but they found nothing. The few surviving Knights of the Priory had vanished, and the search for their sacred artifact began again.

Yes, you have. Almost everyone on earth has. You just know it as the Holy Grail.

"She rests at last beneath starry skies."

Sophie… you are the secret.

Have you ever heard those words before, Sophie, "so dark the con of man"?

When you were a child, were you aware of any secret gatherings? Anything ritualistic in nature? Meetings your grandfather would have wanted kept secret? Was there ever any talk of something called the Priory of Sion?

The Priory of Sion is a myth. One of the world's oldest and most secret societies with leaders like, uh, Sir Isaac Newton, da Vinci himself. The fleur-de-lis is their crest. They're guardians of a secret they supposedly refer to as "the dark con of man."

The Priory of Sion protects the source of God's power on Earth.

The Fibonacci numbers only make sense when they're in order. These are scrambled. If he was trying to reach out, maybe he was doing it in code. Would you hold this, please?

Jacques Sauniere was her grandfather. You're the obsessive Priory scholar, Leigh. You still keep lists of who might be in the Priory? I'll bet Jacques Sauniere was on one of those lists. He was on your list of who could be Grand Master, wasn't he?

I'll bet he was right at the top. Consider: four men murdered? The same number as the guardians. What if the Priory was compromised? The other senechaux dead? What if you yourself were dying, a Grand Master? You'd have to pass on the secret to someone you could trust. Someone outside the society. Maybe someone... whose training you had begun but never finished.

What happened between you and your grandfather, exactly? I've jammed my shoulder, I've been shot at. I'm bleeding. I need to know.

Understanding our past determines actively our ability to understand the present. So, how do we sift truth from belief? How do we write our own histories, personally or culturally, and thereby define ourselves? How do we penetrate years, centuries, of historical distortion to find original truth? Tonight, this will be our quest.

t the chateau, you said, "It hides beneath the Rose."

That's why we study history... so we'll stop killing each other.

Well, if we live in a world where the government could tell us what we can and cannot print, then the Washington Post as we know it has already ceased to exist.

Are you suggesting we alert the Attorney General to the fact that we have these documents, that we're going to print, in a few days?

We have to be the check on their power. If we don't hold them accountable, then, my God, who will?

Jack Kennedy. The night he was assassinated, Tony and I were down at the Naval Hospital so we would be there to meet Jackie when she landed. She was bringing Jack's body back on the plane from Dallas and she walked into the room. She was still wearing that pink suit, with Jack's blood all over it. She fell into Tony's arms and they held each other for quite a long time. And then Jackie looked at me and said, "None of this. None of what you see. None of what I say, is ever going to be in your newspaper, Ben." And that just about broke my heart. I never - never thought of Jack as a source. I thought of him as a friend. And that was my mistake. And it was something that Jack knew all along. We can't be both. We have to choose. And - that's the point. The days of us smoking cigars together on Pennsylvania Avenue were over.

You know, the only couple I knew that both Kennedy and LBJ wanted to socialize with was you and your husband.

When I get my hands on that study, what are you going to do, Mrs. Graham? Oh, happy birthday, by the way.

No matter what happens tomorrow, we are not a little local paper anymore.

George Banks and all he stands for will be saved. Maybe not in life, but in imagination. Because that's what we storytellers do. We restore order with imagination. We instill hope again and again and again.

It's all right, Mrs. Travers. It's alright. Mr. Banks is going to be all right. I promise.

It's not the children she comes to save. It's their father. It's YOUR father, Travers Goff.

I've fought this battle from her side. Pat Powers, he wanted the mouse and I didn't have a bean back then. He was this big terrifying New York producer and I was just a kid from Missouri with a sketch of Mickey, but it would've killed me to give him up. Honest to God, killed me. That mouse, he's family.

Have you ever been to Kansas City, Mrs. Travers? Do you know Missouri at all?

Well, it's mighty cold there in the winters. Bitter cold. And my dad, Elias Disney, he owned a newspaper delivery route there. A thousand papers, twice daily; a morning and an evening edition. And dad was a tough businessman. He was a "save a penny any way you can" type of fella, so he wouldn't employ delivery boys. No, no, no... he used me and my big brother Roy. I was eight back then, just eight years old. And, like I said, winters are harsh, and Old Elias, he didn't believe in new shoes until the old ones were worn through. And honestly, Mrs. Travers, the snowdrifts, sometimes they were up over my head and we'd push through that snow like it was molasses. The cold and wet seeping through our clothes and our shoes. Skin peeling from our faces. Sometimes I'd find myself sunk down in the snow, just waking up because I must have passed out or something, I don't know. And then it was time for school and I was too cold and wet to figure out equations and things. And then it was back out in the snow again to get home just before dark. Mother would feed us dinner and then it was time to go right back out and do it again for the evening edition. "You'd best be quick there, Walt. You'd better get those newspapers up on that porch and under that storm door. Poppa's gonna lose his temper again and show you the buckle end of his belt, boy."

I don't tell you this to make you sad, Mrs. Travers. I don't. I love my life, I think it's a miracle. And I loved my dad. He was a wonderful man. But rare is the day when I don't think about that eight-year-old boy delivering newspapers in the snow and old Elias Disney with that strap in his fist. And I am just so tired, Mrs. Travers. I'm tired of remembering it *that* way. Aren't you tired, too, Mrs. Travers? Now we all have our sad tales, buy don't you want to finish the story? Let it all go and have a life that isn't dictated by the past? It's not the children she comes to save. It's their father. It's *your* father... Travers Goff.

You must have loved and admired him a lot to take his name. It's him this is all about, isn't it? All of it, everything. Forgiveness, Mrs. Travers, it's what I learned from your books.

You look at me and you see some kind of Hollywood King Midas. You think I've built an empire and I want your Mary Poppins as just another brick in my kingdom.

Now, if that's all it was, would I have suckered up to a stubborn, cranky dame like you for twenty years? No, I'd have saved myself an ulcer.

I think life disappoints you, Ms. Travers. I think it's done that a lot. And maybe Mary Poppins is the only person in your life who hasn't.

That's not true. She was as real as can be to my daughters, and to thousands of other children - adults too. She's been a nighttime comfort to a heck of a lot of people.

We can't make the picture without the color red. The film is set in London, for Pete's sake!

Well, there's buses and mailboxes and guard's uniforms and things - Heck, the English flag!

Is this a test, Pamela? Are you requiring proof as to how much I want to make you happy so we can create this beautiful thing together?

Pam, a man cannot break a promise he's made to his kids, no matter how long it takes for him to make it come true. Now, you kept me dangling all this time. But now, I gotcha.

Don't you want to finish the story?

Mommy got sick. And it happened just like that. There's nothing anybody could do. It isn't fair. There's no reason. But if we start asking why, we'll go crazy.

Well, I'm gonna get out of bed every morning… breathe in and out all day long. Then, after a while I won't have to remind myself to get out of bed every morning and breathe in and out… and, then after a while, I won't have to think about how I had it great and perfect for a while.

Well, how long is your program? Well, it was a million tiny little things that, when you added them all up, they meant we were supposed to be together... and I knew it. I knew it the very first time I touched her. It was like coming home... only to no home I'd ever known... I was just taking her hand to help her out of a car and I knew. It was like... magic.

Well, I'm not looking for a mail-order bride. I just want somebody I can have a decent conversation with over dinner, without it falling down into weepy tears over some movie.

She looks like my third grade teacher, and I hated my third grade teacher… wait a minute, she IS my third grade teacher!

I'll tell you what I'm doing this weekend, I'm getting laid. It's the 1990's and nobody's getting laid. I'm the only man in America who's getting laid this weekend and I haven't been laid that much. Six girls in college, maybe seven.

Jonah, listen to me. You don't know Victoria. I hardly know her myself. She is a fat mystery to me. She tosses her hair a lot. Why does she do this? I have no idea. Is it a twitch? Does she need a haircut? Should she use a barrette to keep her hair out of her face? These are things I'm willing to get to the bottom of. And that is why… I am DATING her. That's all I'm doing. I'm not living with her. I'm not marrying her. Can you appreciate the difference? This is what single people do. They try other people on and see how they fit. But everybody's an adjustment. Nobody's perfect. There's no such thing as a perfect…

I never did. I mean, the whole idea of an afterlife... But now, I don't know. 'Cause I have these dreams. About your mom. And we have these long talks about you and how you're doing, which she sort of knows, but I tell her anyway. So what is that? That's sort of an afterlife, isn't it?

Not dinner. Not necessarily on the first date, because halfway through dinner you could be really sorry you asked them to dinner. Whereas if it's just a drink, if you like them you can always ask them to dinner, but if not you can just say, "Well, that was great," and then you go home, if you see what I mean. I wonder if it still works this way.

Loss of Spouse Support Group. Chicago Cancer Family Network. Parents Without Partners. Partners Without Parents. Hug Yourself. Hug a Friend. Hug a Shrink. Or work. Work hard. Work will save you. Work is the only thing that will see you through this.

Don't mind him. He's just a guy who's lost his wife.

Uh, Lord, hallowed be Thy name. May our feet be swift; may our bats be mighty; may our balls... be plentiful. Lord, I'd just like to thank You for that waitress in South Bend. You know who she is - she kept calling Your name. And God, these are good girls, and they work hard. Just help them see it all the way through. Okay, that's it.

All right, everyone, let's listen up now, listen up. Hey! I don't know what that kid is doing, but get him away from the tape! Stilwell Something important has just happened. I was in the toilet reading my contract, and it turns out, I get a bonus when we get to the World Series. So, let's play hard, let's play smart, use your heads.

I don't have ball players! I have *girls!*. Girls are what you sleep with *after* the game not coach *during* the game!

I have a mandate to serve you. Nobody else does. Quite frankly, everybody else has an interest in sending you to the electric chair.

You know, I wish people like you would quit saying, 'Aw, come on, counselor'. I didn't like it the first time it happened today. A judge said it to me twice. The more I hear it, the more I don't like it.

My name's Donovan. Irish, both sides. Mother and father. I'm Irish and you're German. But what makes us both Americans? Just one thing. One. Only one. The rule book. We call it the Constitution, and we agree to the rules, and that's what makes us Americans. That's all that makes us Americans. So don't tell me there's no rule book, and don't nod at me like that you son of a bitch.

You have been charged with three counts and nineteen overt acts. Conspiracy to transmit United States defence and atomic secrets to the Soviet Union, conspiracy to gather secrets, and failing to register as a foreign agent.

We need to get off this merry-go-round sir. The next mistake our countries make could be the last one. We need to have the conversation our governments can't.

Let me finish. If your house is insured for $100,000 and a tornado carries it away, it carried away one house. It didn't pick up every stick of furniture and destroy it in a separate incident. If that is what you're saying, well then there is never any limit to our liability, and that is the end of the insurance business. And then, Bob, nobody is safe.

You don't even like Powers. Everybody hates Powers. He didn't kill himself and he let the Commies parade him on television. He's the most hated man in America... after Rudolf Abel... and me.

This is how we do it. The case against you matters. Making them prove it matters. The fiction is: Whether you did it or not doesn't matter. The state has to prove it, that you're a spy.

"The Godfather" is the I Ching. "The Godfather" is the sum of all wisdom. "The Godfather" is the answer to any question. What should I pack for my summer vacation? "Leave the gun, take the cannoli." What day of the week is it? "Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Wednesday."

Kevin, this is possibly the most adorable creature I've ever been in contact with, and if she turns out to be as good looking as a mailbox… I would be crazy enough to turn my life upside down and marry her.

The whole purpose of places like Starbucks is for people with no decision-making ability whatsoever to make six decisions just to buy one cup of coffee. Short, tall, light, dark, caf, decaf, low-fat, non-fat, etc. So people who don't know what the hell they're doing or who on earth they are can, for only $2.95, get not just a cup of coffee but an absolutely defining sense of self: Tall. Decaf. Cappuccino.

Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me wanna buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address. On the other hand, this not knowing has its charms.

Do you ever feel you've become the worst version of yourself? That a Pandora's box of all the secret, hateful parts - your arrogance, your spite, your condescension - has sprung open? Someone upsets you and instead of smiling and moving on, you zing them. "Hello, it's Mr Nasty." I'm sure you have no idea what I'm talking about.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could pass all my zingers to you? And then I would never behave badly and you could behave badly all the time, and we'd both be happy. But then, on the other hand, I must warn you that when you finally have the pleasure of saying the thing you mean to say at the moment you mean to say it, remorse inevitably follows. Do you think we should meet?

I came home tonight and got into the elevator to go to my apartment. An hour later, I got out of the elevator, and Brinkley and I moved out. Suddenly, everything had become clear. It's a long story, full of the personal details we avoid so carefully. Let me just say there was a man sitting in the elevator with me who knew exactly what he wanted, and I found myself wishing I were as lucky as he.

I could never be with someone who likes Joni Mitchell. "It's clouds illusions I recall/I really don't know clouds at all." What does that mean? Is she a pilot? Is she taking flying lessons? It must be a metaphor for something, but I don't know what it is.

We both had done the math. Kelly added it all up and... knew she had to let me go. I added it up, and knew that I had... lost her. 'cos I was never gonna get off that island. I was gonna die there, totally alone. I was gonna get sick, or get injured or something. The only choice I had, the only thing I could control was when, and how, and where it was going to happen. So... I made a rope and I went up to the summit, to hang myself. I had to test it, you know? Of course. You know me. And the weight of the log, snapped the limb of the tree, so I-I - , I couldn't even kill myself the way I wanted to. I had power over *nothing*. And that's when this feeling came over me like a warm blanket. I knew, somehow, that I had to stay alive. Somehow. I had to keep breathing. Even though there was no reason to hope. And all my logic said that I would never see this place again. So that's what I did. I stayed alive. I kept breathing. And one day my logic was proven all wrong because the tide came in, and gave me a sail. And now, here I am. I'm back. In Memphis, talking to you. I have ice in my glass... And I've lost her all over again. I'm so sad that I don't have Kelly. But I'm so grateful that she was with me on that island. And I know what I have to do now. I gotta keep breathing. Because tomorrow the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring?

Gotta love crab. In the nick of time too. I couldn't take much more of those coconuts. Coconut milk is a natural laxative. That's something Gilligan never told us.

We might just make it. Did that thought ever cross your brain? Well, regardless, I would rather take my chance out there on the ocean than to stay here and die on this shithole island, spending the rest of my life talking… TO A GODDAMN VOLLEYBALL!

I couldn't even kill myself the way I wanted to. I had power over nothing.

Do, do you have to keep bringing that up, huh? Ok, so it was a good thing we did a test because it wasn't going to be just a quick snap. Would've broken my neck, or leg or my back. Would've bled to death on the beach, but it's in the past. It was what, a year ago? SO let's just forget it.

Time rules over us without mercy, not caring if we 're healthy or ill, hungry or drunk, Russian, American, beings from Mars. It's like a fire. It could either destroy us or keep us warm. That's why every FedEx office has a clock. Because we live or we die by the clock. We never turn our back on it. And we never, ever allow ourselves the sin of losing track of time!

You just delivered your very first FedEx package. That deserves something special, like, a Snickers bar and a CD player and something to listen to, a CD. There, Elvis Presley. "50,000,000 Fans Can't Be Wrong."

I'm a schoolteacher. I teach English composition... in this little town called Adley, Pennsylvania. The last eleven years, I've been at Thomas Alva Edison High School. I was a coach of the baseball team in the springtime. Back home, I tell people what I do for a living and they think well, now that figures. But over here, it's a big, a big mystery. So, I guess I've changed some. Sometimes I wonder if I've changed so much my wife is even going to recognize me, whenever it is that I get back to her. And how I'll ever be able to tell her about days like today. Ah, Ryan. I don't know anything about Ryan. I don't care. The man means nothing to me. It's just a name. But if... You know if going to Rumelle and finding him so that he can go home. If that earns me the right to get back to my wife, then that's my mission.

You want to leave? You want to go off and fight the war? All right. All right. I won't stop you. I'll even put in the paperwork. I just know that every man I kill the farther away from home I feel.

I don't gripe to *you*, Reiben. I'm a captain. There's a chain of command. Gripes go up, not down. Always up. You gripe to me, I gripe to my superior officer, so on, so on, and so on. I don't gripe to you. I don't gripe in front of you. You should know that as a Ranger.

Well, in that case… I'd say, "This is an excellent mission, sir, with an extremely valuable objective, sir, worthy of my best efforts, sir. Moreover… I feel heartfelt sorrow for the mother of Private James Ryan and am willing to lay down my life and the lives of my men - especially you, Reiben - to ease her suffering."

You take a standard G.I sock, cram it with as much Composition B as it can hold, rig up a simple fuse, then coat the whole thing with axel grease. Now when you throw it, it should stick. Its a bomb that sticks, its a "sticky bomb". Think of a better way to knock out the tracks, I'm all ears.

Private, I'm afraid I have some bad news for ya. Well, there isn't any real easy way to say this, so, uh, so I'll just say it. Your brothers are dead. We have, uh, orders to come get you, 'cause you're going home.

This Ryan better be worth it. He'd better go home and cure some disease or invent a longer-lasting lightbulb or something. 'Cause the truth is, I wouldn't trade 10 Ryans for one Vecchio or one Caparzo.

You died on a Saturday morning. And I had you placed here under our tree. And I had that house of your father's bulldozed to the ground. Momma always said dyin' was a part of life. I sure wish it wasn't. Little Forrest, he's doing just fine. About to start school again soon. I make his breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day. I make sure he combs his hair and brushes his teeth every day. Teaching him how to play ping-pong. He's really good. We fish a lot. And every night, we read a book. He's so smart, Jenny. You'd be so proud of him. I am. He, uh, wrote a letter, and he says I can't read it. I'm not supposed to, so I'll just leave it here for you. Jenny, I don't know if Momma was right or if, if it's Lieutenant Dan. I don't know if we each have a destiny, or if we're all just floating around accidental-like on a breeze, but I, I think maybe it's both. Maybe both is happening at the same time. I miss you, Jenny. If there's anything you need, I won't be far away.

Yes. Well, I-I don't know. Sometimes it would stop raining long enough for the stars to come out… and then it was nice. It was like just before the sun goes to bed down on the bayou. There was always a million sparkles on the water… like that mountain lake. It was so clear, Jenny, it looked like there were two skies one on top of the other. And then in the desert, when the sun comes up, I couldn't tell where heaven stopped and the earth began. It's so beautiful.

That day, for no particular reason, I decided to go for a little run. So I ran to the end of the road. And when I got there, I thought maybe I'd run to the end of town. And when I got there, I thought maybe I'd just run across Greenbow County. And I figured, since I run this far, maybe I'd just run across the great state of Alabama. And that's what I did. I ran clear across Alabama. For no particular reason I just kept on going. I ran clear to the ocean. And when I got there, I figured, since I'd gone this far, I might as well turn around, just keep on going. When I got to another ocean, I figured, since I'd gone this far, I might as well just turn back, keep right on going.

Momma said there's only so much fortune a man really needs and the rest is just for showing off. So, I gave a whole bunch of it to the Foursquare Gospel Church and I gave a whole bunch to the Bayou La Batre Fishing Hospital. And even though Bubba was dead, and Lieutenant Dan said I was nuts, I gave Bubba's momma Bubba's share. And you know what? She didn't have to work in nobody's kitchen no more…

Mama always said, God is mysterious. He didn't turn Jenny into a bird that day. But instead - he had the po-lice say Jenny didn't have to stay in that house no more. She went to live with her grandma, just over on Creekmore Avenue. And that made me happy, because she was close. And some nights she'd sneak out and come on over to my house, because she said she was scared. It may have been because of her grandma's dog, or somethin'.

Now I don't know much about anything. But I met some of America's best young men who served in this war. There was Dallas, from Phoenix; Cleveland - he was from Detroit; and Tex… well, I don't remember where Tex come from.

So Bubba was from Bayou la Batrie, Alabama, and his mama cooked shrimp. And her mama before her cooked shrimp, and her mama before her mama cooked shrimp, too. Bubba's family knew everything there was to know about the shrimpin' business.

I hadn't seen anything so beautiful in my life she was like an angel. I just sat next to her on that bus and had a conversation all the way to school. Next to momma no one ever talked to me or asked me questions from that day on we were always together Jenny, she helped me learn how to read and I showed her how to swing sometimes we'd just sit out and wait for the stars for some reason Jenny never wanted to go home she was my most special friend, my only friend

another time when I was running along somebody had lost all his money in the T-shirt business and he wanted to put my face on a t-shirt but he couldn't draw that well and didn't have a camera some years later I found out that man did come up with an idea for a T-shirt and he made a lot of money off of it.

We lived about a quarter mile off route seventeen about half a mile from the town of Greenbow, Alabama that's in the county Greenbow, our house has been in Momma's family since her grand pa's grand pa's grand pa had come across the ocean about a thousand years ago or something like that. Since it was just me and Momma and had all these empty rooms Momma decided to let those rooms out, mostly to people passing through like from Mobile and Montgomery places like that, that's how Momma and I got money, Momma was a real smart lady

Night time in the army was a lonely time. We lay there in our bunks and I'd miss my momma and I'd miss Jenny. Turns out Jenny had gotten into some trouble over some photos of her in her college sweater and she was thrown out of school but that wasn't a bad thing because a man who owns a theater in Memphis Tennessee saw those photos and offered Jenny a job singing in a show, the first chance I got I took a bus to Memphis to see her show.

and then she was there. She came back and stayed with me. Maybe it was because she had nowhere else to go, or maybe it was because she was so tired because she went to bed and slept and slept like she hadn't slept in years. It was wonderful having her home: every day we'd take a walk and I'd jabber on like a monkey in a tree, she'd listen about ping ponging and shrimping and Momma making a trip up to heaven. I did most of the talking, most of the time she was real quiet, I really never knew why she came back but I didn't care it was like old times we were like peas and carrots again everyday. I'd pick pretty flowers and put it in her room for her. She even showed me how to dance, we were like family, it was the happiest time in my life

For some reason ping pong became very natural to me so I started playing all the time I played ping pong even when I didn't have anyone to play ping pong with, the hospital people said it made me look like a "duck in water" whatever that means, even Lieutenant Dan would come watch me play I played ping pong so much, I even played ping pong in my sleep.

When I was a baby Momma named me after the great civil war hero general Nathan Bedford Forrest. She said we were related to him in some way what he did was: he started up this club called the Ku Klux Klan they'd all dress up in their robes and their bed sheets and act like a bunch of ghosts and spooks or something. They'd even put bed sheets on their horses and ride around and anyway that's how I got my name Forest Gump

Anyway I guess you can say me and momma was on our own, but we didn't mind our house was never empty: there was always folks coming and going sometimes we had so many people staying with us that every room was filled with travelers folks living out of their suit cases and hat cases and sample cases one time a handsome young man was staying with us he had himself a guitar case.

I liked that guitar, it sounded good I started moving around to the music swinging my hips, this one night me and momma was out shopping and walked by the appliance store, some years later that handsome young man they called" The King" he sang too many songs and had himself a heart attack or something, must be hard being "The King"

Remember how I told you that Jenny never seemed to wanted to go home? She lived in a house that was old as Alabama, her momma had gone up to heaven when she was five her daddy was some kind of farmer, he was a very loving man always kissing and touching her and her sisters then this one time Jenny wasn't on the bus to go to school

College ran by real fast because I played so much football they even put me on the All American team where you get to meet the President of the United States, some years later for no particular reason someone shot that nice young President when he was riding in his car and a few years after that somebody shot his brother too, only he was in the hotel kitchen, must be hard being brothers I wouldn't know

I sent Jenny a letter not every day but almost. I told her what I was doing and asked her what she was doing. I told her how I thought about her. I was looking forward to getting a letter from her when she had time. I always let her know I was ok and I signed each letter "love Forest Gump."

They told us Vietnam was going to be a lot different than United States of America. I got to see a lot of the country side. We would take these real long walks, the good thing about Vietnam, there was always some place to go and there was always something to do.

I ran and ran just like Jenny told me to. I ran so far and so fast pretty soon I was all by myself which was a bad thing: Bubba was my best good friend I had to make sure he was ok. On my way back to find Bubba there was this boy laying on the ground, I couldn't let him lay as scared as he was, so I grabbed him up and run him out of there. Every time I went back looking for Bubba someone else was saying "help me Forest," I started to get scared, I might never find Bubba.

We walked around all night: just Jenny and me. Just talking, she told me all the traveling she'd done, how she discovered ways to "expand her mind and live in harmony," which must be out west or somewhere because she made it out to California. It was a very special night for the two of us. I didn't want it to end.

I thought I was going back to Vietnam but instead they decided the best way for me to fight the Communists was to play ping pong, so I was in the Special Services, traveling around the country cheering up all the wounded veterans, showing them how to play ping pong. I was so good that some years later the army decided I should be on the All American Ping Pong Team. We were the first Americans to visit the land of China in a million years or something like that. Somebody said world peace was in our hands.