Stranger Than Fiction

Harold:
'Harold thought it was Wednesday.' Did you hear it?

Lady at bus stop:
Who's Harold?

Harold:
I am.

Lady at bus stop:
Don't worry Harold, it's Wednesday.

Harold:
What would you do if you knew you were going to die? Possibly soon...

Dave:
Am I the richest man alive?

Harold:
No, you're you.

Dave:
Do I have superpowers?

Harold:
What? No, you're you.

Dave:
Well you said it was hypothetical.

Harold:
All right, you're really good at math.

Dave:
That's a skill, not a superpower.

Harold:
Fine, you're really good at math and you're invisible. What would you do?

Dave:
Easy. I'd go to space camp.

Harold:
You're invisible and you'd go to space camp?

Dave:
I didn't pick invisible, you picked invisible.

Penny Escher:
I will gladly and quietly help you kill Harold Crick.

Karen Eiffel:
And this coming from someone who's never thought about leaping off a building.

Penny Escher:
Are you Ms. Eiffel?

Karen Eiffel:
Yes.

Penny Escher:
Excellent. May I ask what you're doing?

Karen Eiffel:
Research.

Penny Escher:
Oh. Am I interrupting?

Karen Eiffel:
Yes!

Penny Escher:
I'm sorry.

Penny Escher:
Sitting in the rain isn't going to write a book.

Karen Eiffel:
That illustrates exactly how much you know about writing books.

Penny Escher:
And I suppose you smoked all these cigarettes?

Karen Eiffel:
No, they came pre-smoked.

Penny Escher:
(Under her breath) They told me that you were funny.

Karen Eiffel:
What's this?

Penny Escher:
It's literature on the nicotine patch.

Karen Eiffel:
I don't need a nicotine patch, Penny. I smoke cigarettes.

Ana Pascal:
You're staring at my tits.

Harold Crick:
Uuh.. I wu.. I don't think I was. I don't think I would do that. If I was I can assure you, it was only as a representative of the United States Government.

[Harold gives Ana bags of flour and confesses his love for her.]

Harold Crick:
Miss Pascal, I've been odd and I... I know that I've been odd. And... I want you.

Ana Pascal:
What?

Harold Crick:
There are so many reasons, so many influences in my life that are telling me, at times quite litterally, that I should have come here and bring you these. But... but I'm doing this because I want you.

Ana Pascal:
You want me?

Harold Crick:
In no uncertain terms.

Ana Pascal:
Isn't there some very... clearer and established... rule about... fraternization?

Harold Crick:
Auditor/ auditee protocol?

Ana Pascal:
Yeah!

Harold Crick:
Yeah, but I don't care.

Ana Pascal:
Why?

Harold Crick:
Because I want you.

Jules Hilbert:
Married?

Harold Crick:
No.

Jules Hilbert:
Ever?

Harold Crick:
Engaged to an auditor. She left me for an actuary.

Jules Hilbert:
You were right. This narrator might very well kill you. So I humbly suggest that you just forget all this and go live your life.

Harold Crick:
Go live my life? I am living my life. I'd like to continue to live my life.

Jules Hilbert:
I know. Of course. I mean all of it. However long you have left. You know, I mean, Howard,you could use it to have an adventure. You know, invent something, or just finish reading Crime and Punishment. Hell, Harold, you could just eat nothing but pancakes if you wanted.

Harold Crick:
What's wrong with you? Hey. I don't wanna eat nothing but pancakes. I wanna live. Who in their right mind in a choice between pancakes and living chooses pancakes?

Jules Hilbert:
Harold, if you'd pause to think. I believe you'd realize that that answer's inextricably contingent upon the type of life being led and, of course,the quality of the pancakes.

Harold Crick:
You don't understand. What I'm saying.

Jules Hilbert:
Yes, I do.

Harold Crick:
But you have to understand that this isn't a philosophy or a literary theory or a story to me. It's my life.

Jules Hilbert:
Absolutely. So just go make it the one you've always wanted.

Karen P. Eiffel:
This is a story about a man named Harold Crick. And his wristwatch.

Karen P. Eiffel:
Harold Crick was a man of infinite numbers, endless calculations and incredibly few words.

Karen P. Eiffel:
And although this was an extraordinary day—a day to be remembered for the rest of Harold's life — Harold just thought it was a Wednesday.

Karen P. Eiffel:
As much as I would like to, I simply cannot throw Harold Crick off a building.

Karen P. Eiffel:
Little did he know that this simple, seemingly innocuous act would result in his imminent death.

Karen P. Eiffel:
Everyone thinks about leaping off a building.

Karen P. Eiffel:
We're imagining car wrecks!

Karen P. Eiffel:
Pneumonia. That's an interesting way to die.

Karen P. Eiffel:
Is this a joke?

Karen P. Eiffel:
I don't need a nicotine patch, Penny; I smoke cigarettes.

Karen P. Eiffel:
Like anything worth writing, it came inexplicably and without method.

Karen P. Eiffel:
Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy... in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies. And fortunately when there aren't any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin... or a kind and loving gesture... or a subtle encouragement... or a loving embrace or an offert of comfort. Not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs... and uneaten Danish... and soft-spoken secrets... and Fender Stratocasters... and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are, in fact, here for a much larger and nobler cause: They are here to save our lives. I know the idea seems strange. But i also know that it just so happens to be true.

Harold Crick:
The cookies were good. Thank you for forcing me to eat them.

Harold Crick:
I am relieved to know I am not a golem.

Harold Crick:
This may sound like gibberish, but I think I'm in a tragedy.

Harold Crick:
SHUT UP! [narrator continues] No I'm not. I'm cursing you stupid voice; so shut up and leave me alone!

Harold Crick:
I left my thimble and Socialist reading material at home.

Harold Crick:
I brought you flours.

Harold Crick:
Alright, who just said "Harold just counted brush strokes"?

Jules Hilbert:
You have to die. It's a masterpiece.

Jules Hilbert:
No one wants to die Harold, unfortunately we do. Harold, Harold listen to me. Harold, you will die, some day, some time; heart failure at the bank, choke on a mint. Some long drawn-out disease you've contracted on vacation, you will die. You will absolutely die. Even if you avoid this death, another will find you. And I guarantee, that it won't be nearly as poetic or as meaningful as what she's written. I'm sorry but it's ... it's the nature of all tragedies Harold. The hero dies, and the story goes on forever.

Jules Hilbert:
Aren't you relieved to know you're not a Golem?

Jules Hilbert:
It's been a very revealing 10 seconds.

Jules Hilbert:
'Little did he know', That means there's something he doesn't know, which means there's something you don't know, did you know that?

Jules Hilbert:
Meeting an insurance agent the day your policy runs out is coincidence. Getting a letter from the Emperor saying he's visiting is plot. Having your apartment eaten by a wrecking ball ... is something else entirely. Harold, you don't control your fate.

Jules Hilbert:
Harold, if you pause to think, you'd realize that that answer is inextricably contingent upon the type of life being led... and, of course, the quality of the pancakes.

Ana Pascal:
Harold

Ana Pascal:
Get bent, taxman!

Ana Pascal:
Apology accepted. But only because you stammered.

Ana Pascal:
Anarchists have a group? ... They assemble? ... Wouldn't that defeat the whole purpose?