ray something

8

Spacelatinxs Week ✫  
Day One :: Favorite Character


“Does he look like a killer?”
She was watching Cassian and Bodhi descend into the mud when she heard Chirrut’s voice. She turned to look and saw he was speaking to Baze.
“No,” Baze said, after a moment of thought. “He has the face of a friend.”
“Who are you talking about?” she asked.
Baze eyed her appraisingly. “Captain Andor,” he said, flat. 
– Alexander Freed, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story novelization

9

“He was a charming and well mannered man with an impish sense of humour. Peter Cushing was a wonderful human being.”
- Hazel Court

“I liked Peter Cushing so much that it was almost impossible for me to feel the hatred I needed to act against him in our scene together!”
- Carrie Fisher

“He really was the most gentle and generous of men. I have often said he died because he was too good for this world.”
- Christopher Lee

Reminder that Peter Cushing was a goofball and was the kind of guy who would make everyone in the room laugh or be the one crying with laughter.

8

         It appears we have a traitor in our midst

Beware the autumn people.
For some, autumn comes early, stays late, through life, where October follows September and November touches October and then instead of December and Christ’s birth there is no Bethlehem Star, no rejoicing, but September comes again and old October and so on down the years, with no winter, spring or revivifying summer.
For these beings, fall is the only normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond.
Where do they come from? The dust.
Where do they go? The grave.
Does blood stir their veins? No, the night wind.
What ticks in their head? The worm.
What speaks through their mouth? The toad.
What sees from their eye? The snake.
What hears with their ear? The abyss between the stars.
They sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. They frenzy forth. In gusts they beetle-scurry, creep, thread, filter, motion, make all moons sullen, and surely cloud all clear-run waters. The spider-web hears them, trembles—breaks.
Such are the autumn people.
—  Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes
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