Broadway Baby

imagine saluting the stranger on the deck of a passing ship not knowing that that stranger will end up with your wife. cough cough ragtime.

to me lady macbeth is just macbeth. and what you call macbeth? why, i know him as "guy macbeth"

when i looked in the sand and there were 25 sets of footprints that was when skimbleshanks was tapdancing

The actual w&p ending ofc adds more to Pierre's ideas of greatness but I do love how Great Comet just says the great Act you have been waiting to do is to show kindness when no one else will! To show mercy, to forgive when no one else does! That is your moment of glory!!!!!

"i asked chatgpt" well i calculated the number of the beast. it is napoleon. six hundred three score and six. and i will kill him one day. he's no great man, none of us are great men, we're caught in the waves of history. nothing matters; everything matters, it's all the same. Oh, if only I could not see it, that dreadful, terrible, it.

do you ever find yourself in an elevator or a bus or a train car with a bunch of people and think to yourself damn we’d make a compelling ensemble company for a black box theatre play or a novella of some kind should something go wrong here

"i asked chatgpt" well i calculated the number of the beast. it is napoleon. six hundred three score and six. and i will kill him one day. he's no great man, none of us are great men, we're caught in the waves of history. nothing matters; everything matters, it's all the same. Oh, if only I could not see it, that dreadful, terrible, it.

pierre bezukhov is fucking unhinged. i can not imagine being anatole in that moment because literally imagine someone lecturing you about this girl you like and he's all "you can NOT fuck around with that girl anymore. im literally going to kill you. no im not. you just gotta stay away from her, okay? in fact, you should fuck your sister, that would be a better thing to do. you're a little bitch. no you're not. now leave the country"

hey, does anyone know if tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day, or if it's like. a bank holiday.