It's all about feeling

Hester 2022-04-19 09:03:02

The plot itself is not worth discussing. So are the actors.

Some books are beautifully arranged, well-phrased, and their themes are refined. You can't feel the slightest sincerity when you read them through. Some books are bumpy and laborious, but full of sincerity.

What the grass leaves give me is just a feeling, and it becomes very comfortable after being embodied. It's like smoking marijuana. You can't tell what is cool and why, but it is good everywhere... If others ask You usually don't want to talk about all the good points... In fact, half of them are disdain, and the other half is not knowing what to say. It

doesn't inherit the traditional plot mode, it can be regarded as unbreakable and unbreakable. Under normal circumstances, relapse movies will appear a bit of wolf ambition, no Extremism means partial waste, and the blades of grass are handled just right, no more or no less, philosophy or life. That's all your business.

The human heart is only dangerous, the Tao heart is only small. Only the essence is the only one, allowing Jue to hold on to it.

In the end, it's really good. I haven't watched many good movies this year. This is one movie. It's much more comfortable than "The Man Who Hurts Eggs" (serious person) that I rubbed off on.

PS: My brother's style is completely COS Messi...

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Extended Reading
  • Rico 2022-03-28 09:01:13

    Norton always likes acting in weird movies~ Although the plot of this one is very general, I still like his performance~

  • Madelyn 2022-03-28 09:01:13

    Not perfect, but very impressive!

Leaves of Grass quotes

  • Janet: You still leaving tomorrow.

    Bill Kincaid: I think so.

    Janet: I'll miss you.

    Bill Kincaid: And we barely know each other.

    Janet: "You have not known what you are. You have slumbered upon yourself all your life. Your eyelids have been the same as closed most of the time. What you have done returns already in mockeries. The mockeries are not you. Underneath them, and within them, I see you lurk."

    Bill Kincaid: [absorbing what she'd just quoted] Who was that?

    Janet: Walt Whitman.

    Bill Kincaid: I don't think I ever imagined hearing him recited to me by a girl gutting a 40 pound catfish.

    Janet: That's exactly how he should be recited. He wrote without rhyme or meter. Free verse. Just whatever he felt inside coming out in one intricate rhythm. Pure unashamed passion, without definable restriction.

    Bill Kincaid: I'm sorry, see, I have a few issues with that.

    Janet: Why?

    Bill Kincaid: Because some have dared to suggest that even poetry has rules.

    Janet: Or you make your own.

    Bill Kincaid: Right there, that's the part I never bought into.

    Janet: Because?

    Bill Kincaid: If everybody runs around making their own rules, how can you ever find what's true? There's nothing... there's nothing to rely on.

    Janet: "One night, I split my cicada skin, devoured your leaves, knowing no poison, no law of nourishment in that larval blindness, a hunger finally true."

    Bill Kincaid: Who's that?

    Janet: That's me.

  • Brady Kincaid: I ain't gonna manufacture or purvey anything that I ain't gonna ingest into my own sweet self.