February 2: From the Movies (Money Matters)

Day Williams created this graphic depiction of this date.
February 2
From the Movies

Show me the money!
~Jerry Maguire (1996)

I’ll wager you anything you like that if American women stopped wearing brassieres, your whole national economy would collapse overnight.
~J. Algernon Hawthorne, It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World (1963)

My name is Joel Goodsen. I deal in human fulfillment. I grossed over eight thousand dollars in one night.
~Joel Goodsen, Risky Business (1983)

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February 2: Science Fiction Writers (The Future)

Day Williams created this graphic depiction of this date.
February 2
Science Fiction Writers



I want to stay as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can’t see from the center.

~Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. (1922–2007), American novelist known for works blending satire, black comedy, and science fiction


The human race, to which so many of my readers belong, has been playing at children’s games from the beginning, and will probably do it till the end, which is a nuisance for the few people who grow up. And one of the games to which it is most attached is called “Keep to-morrow dark,” and which is also named (by the rustics in Shropshire, I have no doubt) “Cheat the Prophet.” The players listen very carefully and respectfully to all that the clever men have to say about what is to happen in the next generation. The players then wait until all the clever men are dead, and bury them nicely. Then they go and do something else. That is all. For a race of simple tastes, however, it is great fun.

~G. K. Chesterton, The Napoleon of Notting Hill (1904)



The younger lamas are naturally preoccupied with the past; it is a necessary step to envisaging the future.

~James Hilton, Lost Horizon (1933)



This was a Golden Age, a time of high adventure, rich living, and hard dying . . . but nobody thought so. This was a future of fortune and theft, pillage and rapine, culture and vice . . . but nobody admitted it.

~Alfred Bester, The Stars My Destination (1956)

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February 2: “How Sweet It Is” by Day Williams



With feet of clay and hearts of lies

Men sally forth to seize the skies;

With broken legs and broken hearts

They hobble back, their dreams apart.


Without a thought to future men

They play their cards and practice Zen;

They tell their jokes and trade their lies,

While in each man his spirit dies.


Ignoring God while all is gain,

They look to Him in times of pain;

And when the LORD relieves their hurt,

They pack their bags and they desert.


They never know how much He cares,

They never know the dream’s still there;

They never know how sweet it is

To die each day, to be all His.

~Day Williams

February 2: “The Hollow Men,” T.S. Eliot

Mistah Kurtz-he dead
A penny for the Old Guy

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us–if at all–not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.


Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death’s dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer–

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom


This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man’s hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death’s other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.


The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.


Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o’clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.