cartoon

You can make it if you try. Don't give up or quit the fight. If you believe, you will see, you can do it.

I was also sick of my neighbors, as most Parisians are. I now knew every second of the morning routine of the family upstairs. At 7:00 am alarm goes off, boom, Madame gets out of bed, puts on her deep-sea divers_ boots, and stomps across my ceiling to megaphone the kids awake. The kids drop bags of cannonballs onto the floor, then, apparently dragging several sledgehammers each, stampede into the kitchen. They grab their chunks of baguette and go and sit in front of the TV, which is always showing a cartoon about people who do nothing but scream at each other and explode. Every minute, one of the kids cartwheels (while bouncing cannonballs) back into the kitchen for seconds, then returns (bringing with it a family of excitable kangaroos) to the TV. Meanwhile the toilet is flushed, on average, fifty times per drop of urine expelled. Finally, there is a ten-minute period of intensive yelling, and at 8:15 on the dot they all howl and crash their way out of the apartment to school._ (p.137)

He sank back into his black-and-white world, his immobile world of inanimate drawings that had been granted the secret of motion, his death-world with its hidden gift of life. But that life was a deeply ambiguous life, a conjurer's trick, a crafty illusion based on an accidental property of the retina, which retained an image for a fraction of a second after the image was no longer present. On this frail fact was erected the entire structure of the cinema, that colossal confidence game. The animated cartoon was a far more honest expression of the cinematic illusion than the so-called realistic film, because the cartoon reveled in its own illusory nature, exulted in the impossible--indeed it claimed the impossible as its own, exalted it as its own highest end, found in impossibility, in the negation of the actual, its profoundest reason for being. The animated cartoon was nothing but the poetry of the impossible--therein lay its exhilaration and its secret melancholy. For this willful violation of the actual, while it was an intoxicating release from the constriction of things, was at the same time nothing but a delusion, an attempt to outwit mortality. As such it was doomed to failure. And yet it was desperately important to smash through the constriction of the actual, to unhinge the universe and let the impossible stream in, because otherwise--well, otherwise the world was nothing but an editorial cartoon.

You can't tell what's in a person's heart until you truly Know them.

Welcome to Hell. Here's your accordion.

From an illustration in her "Animals of a Bygone Era": a Leptictidium, an extinct rabbit-like animal who left no descendants, says: "Too bad, because we were really cute.

All cartoon characters and fables must be exaggeration, caricatures. It is the very nature of fantasy and fable.

Yeah! Everything is okay!

Yeah but I don__ know how to make myself go there. Maybe it might never happen again. AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!

I don__ think so. Beth didn__ get any presents.

Put a little fence around it!

Throw a blanket over it!

Ahhh! Impossibear has a gas powered stick!

Pony Lords, jump for your lives__AH!

The thing about being a screenwriter, scriptwriter, or scenarist, You get to have multiple personalities and not be charged!