M*A*S*H Quotes

Tuesday, October 28, 2008 at 9:17 PM
I will not carry a gun Frank. When I got thrown into this war I had a clear understanding with the Pentagon: no guns. I'll carry your books, I'll carry a torch, I'll carry a tune, I'll carry on, carry over, carry forward, Cary Grant, cash and carry, carry me back to old Virginia, I'll even 'hari-kari' if you show me how, but I will not carry a gun!
- Hawkeye

What a unique device, the human tush. An architectural wonder, one of a kind...actually two of a kind. Designed to support our weight for a lifetime of sitting it also has the subtlety to do the samba. And when attached to certain members of the female species at a time when light summer dresses are worn, can cause some of us to drive our cars straight up a lamppost.
- Hawkeye

So bored.
So bored it's boring.
Boronus, Boretis, Boremus. I came, I saw, I bored.
He bored, she bored, they bored.
All aboard.
I was gonna say that!
- Hawkeye & BJ

I can take umbridge, I can take the cake, I can take the A-train, I can take two and call me in the morning, but I cannot take this sitting down. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna take five.
- Hawkeye

True Strength

at 9:06 PM
It's not me playing strong. It's you all being weak. It's easy to win against guys who decided to lose. Not me. I don't plan to lose anymore. There's no point in playing to lose! I don't get you guys. What's wrong with wanting to live? Isn't that normal? I don't think I'm forcing myself through life and I don't think I'm cool. I just do things the way I want. If you think I don't get it cause I'm a stupid kid, fine. Maybe I am a stupid kid. But I still know it's wrong and I'm right. Sitting here is like giving up and admitting defeat. It's stupid and I hate it! I will never give up and I will never lose!

Watch Your English

Sunday, October 19, 2008 at 10:18 AM
We’ll begin with a box and the plural is boxes,
But the plural of ox is oxen, not oxes.
Then one fowl is goose, but two are called geese,
Yet the plural moose should never be meese.
You may find one lone mouse or a whole nest of mice,
But the plural of house is houses, not hice!
If the plural of man is always men
Why shouldn’t the plural of pan be called pen?
If I speak of a foot and you show me your feet
And I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet?
If one tooth and a whole set of teeth
Why should not the plural of booth be called beeth?
Then one may be that and three may be those
Yet hat in the plural would never be hose
And the plural of cat is cats not cose!
We speak of a brother and also of brethren
But though we say mother we never say methren!
Then the masculine pronouns are he, his, and him,
But imagine the feminine, she, shis, and shim!
So English I fancy we all will agree
Is the funniest language you ever did see.

- Unknown


at 10:15 AM
Waiting, watching, listening,
Hearing, sensing, feeling.
Silent running through dark,
Dense forest.

Pale arms, never trembling,
Never missing, string
Her mighty weapon

Night wind blows
Upon her bare shoulders.
Not shivering, holding steady,
Eyes watching every leaf.
Reaching back towards
Gleaming silver bullets.

Notching, pulling, grasping
Losing her hold upon the
Gentle water-made silver.

Silence, calm, emptiness,
Not moving, holding with force,
The shooting star essential
For that night.

Aiming eyes, never moving,
Never blinking, ready for release.
Target stands in moonlight bathed
Grass in forest meadows

Shooting. Her shining bullet
Whispers to a singing wind.
Never moving eyes upon the bullet.

Hoping, wishing, dying,
Falling, bleeding, agony.

Gracefully she walks toward
Her fallen target.
Always watchful for signs of life.
Moving, twitching, silence, calm.
Death pierces the cold night air.

White arms, feeling, touching
Nimble hands gently take the bullet
Out of soft, warm, brown hair.
Watching she knows,
Her silver arrow met it’s mark.

- Lisa Henderson


at 10:15 AM
Gleaming golden sunshine
Filters through his lyre.
Strands of scattering rays
Fill every magical string.

Gentle musical breezes
Encase the living laurel
Crowning golden hair.

Listening birds, beautiful beasts,
Calm wonderful winds,
Whisper news of day.

Clouds, rain, snow,
Hail, sleet, fog.

Nimble fingers poetic melodies
Still all signs of death.
Warm music, touching songs
Strengthen every spirit
His reed sounds see.

Fear, hatred, death,
Cutting through golden peace.
Silence. Spinning webs of beams
Try, fail, try, fail, try.

Never pausing, never breathing
Always moving strings try
Success, filtering all silence

Ringing, blowing, calming, end.
The beautiful tapestry is woven.
His weaving sunlight ends.
Sleep, rest, night.

Cold death surrounds
All that live and sleep.
With sleep comes dreams of
Golden sunshine tomorrow.

- Lisa Henderson

Thank You

at 9:57 AM
When someone asks a favor
And you go out of your way,
You expect a little gratitude
At the end of the day.

If you do something for someone
When you had other things to do,
It hurts when they're ungrateful
For what you went through.

You love and cherish people
And on your end you do not lack,
But then those precious people
Turn and stab you in the back.

So take from this a lesson
Of what to say and do;
If someone does you a favor
Always return it with 'Thank You'.

- Lisa Henderson

What I Love About You

Sunday, October 12, 2008 at 10:36 PM
I love the way you look at me,
Your eyes so bright and blue.
I love the way you kiss me,
Your lips so soft and smooth.

I love the way you make me so happy,
And the ways you show you care.
I love the way you say, "I Love You,"
And the way you're always there.

I love the way you touch me,
Always sending chills down my spine.
I love that you are with me,
And glad that you are mine.

- Crystal Jansen


Sunday, October 05, 2008 at 2:04 PM
There comes a time in every life
When words don't mean a thing
And all we have are actions
To help our soul take wing.

- Lisa Henderson