Wonder Boys Quotes
An English Professor tries to deal with his wife leaving him, the arrival of his editor who has been waiting for his book for seven years, and the various problems that his friends and associates involve him in.
Hannah Green: James will know about George Sanders.
James Leer: George Sanders?
Hannah Green: Mr. Crabtree was saying how George Sanders killed himself, only he couldn't remember how.
James Leer: Pills. April 25, 1972, in a Costa Brava hotel room.
Terry Crabtree: How comprehensive of you.
Hannah Green: James is amazing. He knows all the movie suicides. Go ahead, James. Tell him.
James Leer: There are so many.
Hannah Green: Well, just a few. The big ones.
James Leer: Pier Angeli, 1971 or '72, also pills. Donald "Red" Barry, shot himself in 1980. Charles Boyer, 1978, pills again. Charles Butterworth, 1946, I think. In a car. Supposedly, it was an accident, but, you know, he was distraught. Dorothy Dandridge, pills, 1965. Albert Dekker, 1968. He hung himself. He wrote his suicide note in lipstick on his stomach. William Inge, carbon monoxide, 1973. Carole Landis, pills again. I forget when. George Reeves, "Superman" on TV, shot himself. Jean Seberg, pills, of course, 1979. Everett Sloane - he was good - pills. Margaret Sullavan, pills. Lupe Velez, a lot of pills. Gig Young, he shot himself and his wife in 1978. There are tons more.
Hannah Green: I haven't heard of half of them.
Terry Crabtree: You did them alphabetically.
James Leer: It's just how my brain works, I guess.
James Leer: George Sanders?
Hannah Green: Mr. Crabtree was saying how George Sanders killed himself, only he couldn't remember how.
James Leer: Pills. April 25, 1972, in a Costa Brava hotel room.
Terry Crabtree: How comprehensive of you.
Hannah Green: James is amazing. He knows all the movie suicides. Go ahead, James. Tell him.
James Leer: There are so many.
Hannah Green: Well, just a few. The big ones.
James Leer: Pier Angeli, 1971 or '72, also pills. Donald "Red" Barry, shot himself in 1980. Charles Boyer, 1978, pills again. Charles Butterworth, 1946, I think. In a car. Supposedly, it was an accident, but, you know, he was distraught. Dorothy Dandridge, pills, 1965. Albert Dekker, 1968. He hung himself. He wrote his suicide note in lipstick on his stomach. William Inge, carbon monoxide, 1973. Carole Landis, pills again. I forget when. George Reeves, "Superman" on TV, shot himself. Jean Seberg, pills, of course, 1979. Everett Sloane - he was good - pills. Margaret Sullavan, pills. Lupe Velez, a lot of pills. Gig Young, he shot himself and his wife in 1978. There are tons more.
Hannah Green: I haven't heard of half of them.
Terry Crabtree: You did them alphabetically.
James Leer: It's just how my brain works, I guess.
James Leer: What are we doing?
Grady Tripp: I'm gonna get you a nice meal, a couple cups of coffee, then I'm taking you home.
James Leer: Take me now.
Grady Tripp: What?
James Leer: I'm not hungry.
Grady Tripp: James, you gotta eat.
James Leer: I'll get something out of the vending machine.
Grady Tripp: Vending machine? What are you talking about?
James Leer: At the bus station, they have these cheese sandwiches. They're pretty good. It's better if you take me now. That way, Carl won't get my spot.
Grady Tripp: Carl?
James Leer: Never mind.
Grady Tripp: James, go get us a table, will ya? I'm not letting the most talented writer in my class eat some week-old cheese sandwich, okay?
Grady Tripp: I'm gonna get you a nice meal, a couple cups of coffee, then I'm taking you home.
James Leer: Take me now.
Grady Tripp: What?
James Leer: I'm not hungry.
Grady Tripp: James, you gotta eat.
James Leer: I'll get something out of the vending machine.
Grady Tripp: Vending machine? What are you talking about?
James Leer: At the bus station, they have these cheese sandwiches. They're pretty good. It's better if you take me now. That way, Carl won't get my spot.
Grady Tripp: Carl?
James Leer: Never mind.
Grady Tripp: James, go get us a table, will ya? I'm not letting the most talented writer in my class eat some week-old cheese sandwich, okay?
Grady Tripp: I had no business trudging up to James Leer's parents' house in the middle of the night. Not when all that really mattered was trying to make things right with Sarah. But we had decided to rescue James Leer. I wasn't quite sure from what because I was pretty much convinced that everything that came out of James' mouth was basically horseshit. But maybe that really didn't matter. Sometimes people just need to be rescued.
Traxler: Say, Professor Tripp, is all that stuff true about Errol Flynn? How he used to put paprika... on his dick... to make it, you know, like... more stimulating... for the chick?
Grady Tripp: Christ, Traxler, how the hell should *I* know?
Traxler: [gesturing to James Leer's rucksack that Tripp is holding] You're reading his biography, aren't you?
Grady Tripp: Oh. No, it's true. He used to rub all sorts of things on it. Salad dressing... ground lamb...
Traxler: Sick!
Grady Tripp: Christ, Traxler, how the hell should *I* know?
Traxler: [gesturing to James Leer's rucksack that Tripp is holding] You're reading his biography, aren't you?
Grady Tripp: Oh. No, it's true. He used to rub all sorts of things on it. Salad dressing... ground lamb...
Traxler: Sick!
James Leer: Professor Tripp? Can I ask you a question?
Grady Tripp: Yeah, James.
James Leer: What are we going to do with... it?
Grady Tripp: I don't know. I'm still trying to figure out how to tell the Chancellor I murdered her husband's dog.
James Leer: You?
Grady Tripp: Trust me, James, when the family pet's been assassinated, the owner doesn't want to hear one of her students was the trigger man.
James Leer: Does she want to hear it was one of her professors?
Grady Tripp: ...I've got tenure.
Grady Tripp: Yeah, James.
James Leer: What are we going to do with... it?
Grady Tripp: I don't know. I'm still trying to figure out how to tell the Chancellor I murdered her husband's dog.
James Leer: You?
Grady Tripp: Trust me, James, when the family pet's been assassinated, the owner doesn't want to hear one of her students was the trigger man.
James Leer: Does she want to hear it was one of her professors?
Grady Tripp: ...I've got tenure.
Terry Crabtree: Let me get this straight. Jerry Nathan owes you money, so as collateral he gives you his car.
Grady Tripp: Only I'm beginning to think that the car wasn't exactly Jerry's to give.
Terry Crabtree: Ah, so whose car was it?
Grady Tripp: My guess? Vernon Hardapple.
Terry Crabtree: The hood jumper?
Grady Tripp: He said a few things that lead me to believe that the car was his.
Terry Crabtree: Such as?
Grady Tripp: "That's my car, motherfucker."
Grady Tripp: Only I'm beginning to think that the car wasn't exactly Jerry's to give.
Terry Crabtree: Ah, so whose car was it?
Grady Tripp: My guess? Vernon Hardapple.
Terry Crabtree: The hood jumper?
Grady Tripp: He said a few things that lead me to believe that the car was his.
Terry Crabtree: Such as?
Grady Tripp: "That's my car, motherfucker."
[first lines]
Grady Tripp: "The young girl sat perfectly still in the confessional listening to her father's boots scrape like chalk on the ancient steps of the church, then grow faint, then disappear altogether. She could sense the priest beyond the grate..." On that particular Friday afternoon, last February, I was reading a story to my Advanced Writers' Workshop by one James Leer, Junior Lit major and sole inhabitant of his own gloomy gulag.
Grady Tripp: "The young girl sat perfectly still in the confessional listening to her father's boots scrape like chalk on the ancient steps of the church, then grow faint, then disappear altogether. She could sense the priest beyond the grate..." On that particular Friday afternoon, last February, I was reading a story to my Advanced Writers' Workshop by one James Leer, Junior Lit major and sole inhabitant of his own gloomy gulag.
Sara Gaskell: You didn't happen to call our house last night, did you?
Grady Tripp: I think I might have, yes.
Sara Gaskell: What do you think you might have said?
Grady Tripp: I think I might have said I was in love with you.
[pause]
Grady Tripp: He told you?
Sara Gaskell: He told me.
Grady Tripp: And what did you say?
Sara Gaskell: I said it didn't sound like you.
Grady Tripp: I think I might have, yes.
Sara Gaskell: What do you think you might have said?
Grady Tripp: I think I might have said I was in love with you.
[pause]
Grady Tripp: He told you?
Sara Gaskell: He told me.
Grady Tripp: And what did you say?
Sara Gaskell: I said it didn't sound like you.
Hannah Green: Grady, you know how in class you're always telling us that writers make choices?
Grady Tripp: Yeah.
Hannah Green: And even though you're book is really beautiful, I mean, amazingly beautiful, it's... it's at times... it's... very detailed. You know, with the genealogies of everyone's horses, and the dental records, and so on. And... I could be wrong, but it sort of reads in places like you didn't make any choices. At all. And I was just wondering if it might not be different if... if when you wrote you weren't always... under the influence.
Grady Tripp: Well... thank you for the thought, but shocking as it may sound, I am not the first writer to sip a little weed. Furthermore, it might surprise you to know that one book I wrote, as you say, "under the influence," just happened to win a little something called the Pen Award. Which, by the way, I accepted under the influence.
Grady Tripp: Yeah.
Hannah Green: And even though you're book is really beautiful, I mean, amazingly beautiful, it's... it's at times... it's... very detailed. You know, with the genealogies of everyone's horses, and the dental records, and so on. And... I could be wrong, but it sort of reads in places like you didn't make any choices. At all. And I was just wondering if it might not be different if... if when you wrote you weren't always... under the influence.
Grady Tripp: Well... thank you for the thought, but shocking as it may sound, I am not the first writer to sip a little weed. Furthermore, it might surprise you to know that one book I wrote, as you say, "under the influence," just happened to win a little something called the Pen Award. Which, by the way, I accepted under the influence.
Grady Tripp: James like it or not those people out there are your parents.
James Leer: They're not my parents.
Grady Tripp: What?
James Leer: They're my grandparents... my parents are dead.
Grady Tripp: James the man is obviously your father... you look just like him.
James Leer: There's a reason for that.
James Leer: They're not my parents.
Grady Tripp: What?
James Leer: They're my grandparents... my parents are dead.
Grady Tripp: James the man is obviously your father... you look just like him.
James Leer: There's a reason for that.
[Crabtree and a student drag James, hopped up on codeine, out of the auditorium]
James Leer: The doors made so much noise!
Grady Tripp: Is he all right?
James Leer: It was so embarrassing! He had to be carried out.
Terry Crabtree: He's fine. He's narrating.
James Leer: They were going to the restroom. But would they make it in time?
James Leer: The doors made so much noise!
Grady Tripp: Is he all right?
James Leer: It was so embarrassing! He had to be carried out.
Terry Crabtree: He's fine. He's narrating.
James Leer: They were going to the restroom. But would they make it in time?
Terry Crabtree: So is he any good?
Grady Tripp: No, not yet.
Terry Crabtree: Well, I'm going to read it, anyway.
Grady Tripp: Aw Crabs, C'mon will you? He's one of my students for Christsakes. Besides, I'm not even sure if he's...
Terry Crabtree: He IS. I'm sure, take my word for it, I see myself in him.
Grady Tripp: Oh, I'm sure you do.
Grady Tripp: No, not yet.
Terry Crabtree: Well, I'm going to read it, anyway.
Grady Tripp: Aw Crabs, C'mon will you? He's one of my students for Christsakes. Besides, I'm not even sure if he's...
Terry Crabtree: He IS. I'm sure, take my word for it, I see myself in him.
Grady Tripp: Oh, I'm sure you do.
Grady Tripp: I don't drink - normally - but this was turning out to be one fucked-up day. And now I found myself in close proximity to Sara's husband and his dog, Poe. Despite his much-vaunted Harvard education Dr. Walter Gaskell didn't have a clue about his wife and me. Poe had been onto me from day one.
James Leer: You're mad at me, aren't you? You're mad because I shot your girlfriend's dog.
Grady Tripp: It wasn't her dog, it was her husband's...
[looking at James]
Grady Tripp: Who said anything about a girlfriend?
James Leer: [smiling back]
Grady Tripp: Okay, James, I wish you hadn't shot my girlfriends dog. Even though Poe and I were not exactly what you'd call simpatico that's no reason he should've taken two in the chest
Grady Tripp: It wasn't her dog, it was her husband's...
[looking at James]
Grady Tripp: Who said anything about a girlfriend?
James Leer: [smiling back]
Grady Tripp: Okay, James, I wish you hadn't shot my girlfriends dog. Even though Poe and I were not exactly what you'd call simpatico that's no reason he should've taken two in the chest
Antonia "Tony" Sloviak: Oh, that's such a beautiful Greenhouse.
Grady Tripp: It's Mrs. Gaskells, it's her hobby.
Terry Crabtree: I thought YOU were Mrs. Gaskell's hobby.
Grady Tripp: Piss off, will ya Crabs? I lost a wife today.
Terry Crabtree: You'll find another one, you always do. She'll be younger,prettier, they always are.
Grady Tripp: It's Mrs. Gaskells, it's her hobby.
Terry Crabtree: I thought YOU were Mrs. Gaskell's hobby.
Grady Tripp: Piss off, will ya Crabs? I lost a wife today.
Terry Crabtree: You'll find another one, you always do. She'll be younger,prettier, they always are.
Grady Tripp: What do we have here? This looks like... that's our old friend Mr. Codeine. That should take the old pinch out of the ankle. Want one?
James Leer: No, thanks. I'm fine without them.
Grady Tripp: Right. That's why you were standing in the chancellor's backyard spinning that "cap gun" of yours. You're fine. Yeah, you're just as fit as a fuckin' fiddle.
James Leer: No, thanks. I'm fine without them.
Grady Tripp: Right. That's why you were standing in the chancellor's backyard spinning that "cap gun" of yours. You're fine. Yeah, you're just as fit as a fuckin' fiddle.
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