more northern exposure

Chris: "Goethe's final words: "More light." Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that's been our unifying cry: "More light." Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlight. Neon. Incandescent. Lights that banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier's field. Little tiny flashlight for those books we read under the covers when we're supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. Thy word is a lamp unto my feet. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home- Lead Thou me on! Arise, shine, for thy light has come. Light is knowledge. Light is life. Light is light."


Chris: "Michelangelo.
Leonard: "He would have done well with totempoles."


Fleishman: "It's nothing to get alarmed about. It could be nothing more than...
Shelly: Than what?
Fleishman: "It's a schizoid personality discorder, which is really nothing more than a little fissuration of the mental functions ... In lay terms, it would imply that you're...
Shelly: "what?"
Fleishman: "In lay terms it would imply that you're kinda nuts."

Shelly: "I've been seein' dancers. But they're not really there."
Chris: "I'm going to tell you right off the bat, Shelly, it could be a couple possibilities. It could be your standard revelatory experience, y'know, like a case of religious ecstasy, a glimpse of the transcendant like Moses and the burning bush, or Joseph Smith and the angel Moroni. Something like that. Or, it could be some bad acid. My friend Roach in West Virginia in 1985 dropped some funky yellow and he's still seeing gila monsters to this very day. ... As long as they're still on the wall, and not crawling up your leg, let 'em ride, man! Y'know?!"