The Twilight Zone (1959) quotes

The year is 1847, the place is the territory of New Mexico, the people are a tiny handful of men and women with a dream. Eleven months ago, they started out from Ohio and headed west. Someone told them about a place called California, about a warm sun and a blue sky, about rich land and fresh air, and at this moment almost a year later they've seen nothing but cold, heat, exhaustion, hunger, and sickness. This man's name is Christian Horn. He has a dying eight year-old son and a heartsick wife, and he's the only one remaining who has even a fragment of the dream left. Mr. Chris Horn, who's going over the top of a rim to look for water and sustenance and in a moment will move into the Twilight Zone.

Mr. Christian Horn, one of the hardy breed of men who headed west during a time when there were no concrete highways or the solace of civilization. Mr. Christian Horn, family and party, heading west, after a brief detour through the Twilight Zone.

Introducing four experts in the questionable art of crime. Mr. Farwell, expert on noxious gases, former professor with a doctorite in both chemistry and physics. Mr. Erbie, expert in mechanical engineering. Mr. Brooks, expert in the use of firearms and other weaponry. And Mr. DeCruz, expert in demolition and various forms of destruction. The time is now and the place is a mountain cave in Death Valley, U.S.A. In just a moment, these four men will utlize the services of a truck placed in cosmoline, loading with a hot heist cooled off by a century of sleep, and then take a drive into the Twilight Zone.

The last of four Rip Van Winkles who all died precisely the way they lived, chasing an idol across the sand to wind up bleached dry in the hot sun as so much desert flotsam, worthless as the gold bullion they built a shrine to. Tonight's lesson...in the Twilight Zone.

The note that this man is carrying across a club room is in the form of a proposed wager, but it's the kind of wager that comes without precedent. It stands alone in the annals of bet-making as the strangest game of chance ever offered by one man to another. In just a moment, we'll see the terms of the wager and what young Mr. Tennyson does about it. And in the process, we'll witness all parties spin a wheel of chance in a very bizarre casino called the Twilight Zone.

Mr. Jamie Tennyson, who almost won a bet, but who discovered somewhat belatedly that gambling can be a most unproductive pursuit, even with loaded dice, marked cards, or as in his case some severed vocal cords. For somewhere beyond him a wheel was turned and his number came up black thirteen. If you don't believe it, ask the croupier, the very special one who handles roulette in the Twilight Zone.

You, uh, have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Tennyson. In a rather compromising situation. You force me into a position of rather distasteful candor. The truth is I am a fraud. I haven't any money. I offered you $1,000. Then $5,000. I would have had to go out into the street to beg even that amount, let alone a half a million dollars. It's true that I have pride, bearing, taste, exceptional breeding, but I lost most of my money some years ago. Now you have forced me to uncover the situation, proving, Mr. Tennyson, proving that of the two of us, you are by far the more substantial. And I will naturally resign. I will not ask you to suffer my presence any longer. (Tennyson stops him and frantically writes something down, silently gesturing him to read it out loud) "I knew I would not be able to keep my part of the bargain, so one year ago I had the nerves to my vocal chords severed.”

Well, Jiggs, don't you think that all of this is just a little bit too much the way it should be?

I don't get you.

Well, I mean it's so pat. I got tried and sentenced the same day. It doesn't work like that! But you see, that's the way that I saw it in my mind, and so that's the way it is! Or you take this place here, you and Coley and his harmonica or Phillips and his mother. It's like a movie. Real death houses aren't like that, but you see I've never been in a real death house, so that's my impression of it!

Fifteen more minutes. That's another thing. Why does this always happen around midnight?

Henry

Because that's when it happens!

Yeah, but why?

Henry

You tell me why.

According to Grant, he doesn't know anything about these matters except what he sees in the movies, and in the movies it always happens at midnight.

Henry

Because movies are technically accurate.

Yeah, that's strange too when you come to think of it.

We know that a dream can be real, but who ever thought that reality could be a dream? We exist, of course, but how, in what way? As we believe, as flesh-and-blood human beings, or are we simply parts of someone's feverish, complicated nightmare? Think about it and then ask yourself, do you live here, in this country, in this world, or do you live instead in the Twilight Zone?

Rod Serling

Adam Grant, a nondescript kind of man found guilty of murder and sentenced to the electric chair. Like every other criminal caught in the wheels of justice, he's scared, right down to the marrow of his bones. But it isn't prison that scares him, the long silent nights of waiting, the slow walk to the little room or even death itself. It's something else that holds Adam Grant in the hot, sweaty grip of fear. Something worse than any punishment this world has to offer. Something found only in the Twilight Zone.

A brief if frenetic introduction to Mr. Archibald Beechcroft, a child of the twentieth century, a product of the population explosion, and one of the inheritors of the legacy of progress. Mr. Beechcroft again. This time act two of his daily battle for survival. And in just a moment, our hero will begin his personal one-man rebellion against the mechanics of his age, and to do so he will enlist certain aids available only in the Twilight Zone.

Mr. Archibald Beechcroft, a child of the twentieth century, who has found out through trial and error - and mostly error - that with all its faults it may well be that this is the best of all possible worlds. People notwithstanding, it has much to offer. Tonight's case in point in the Twilight Zone.

Didn't you go out on that bus?

I did, indeed. That bridge wasn't safe. It collapsed. The state police car, the bus, kerplunk. Right into the river. It was a terrible scene. No one got out.

Except you

Except me. Lucky,I guess, huh?

Very lucky but...

But what?

You're not even wet.

Wet? What is wet?

What do you mean what is wet? You fell in the river but you're clothes are all dry.

An illusion, that's all. Like that jukebox playing in the corner, that's an illusion too. [The Jukebox stops playing] or that phone ringing. [A Phone starts ringing,then stops] That's an illusion. Just a parlor trick.

What are you,some kind of magician?

Oh hardly. [A third arm comes out of his jacket and lights a Cigarette] Now before you faint dead away,I think I should tell you my name isn't really Ross and I wasn't really going to Boston. No, I was sent as sort of an advance scout. You know, these cigarettes, do you call them? They taste wonderful. We haven't got a thing like this on Mars. That's incidentally where I come from. We're beginning to colonize. My friends will be arriving shortly. I think they're going to like it here. It's a lovely area. So remote and off the beaten track. Just the perfect place to set up a colony, don't you think? Now while we're waiting, how about some of what you call music.

Oh I don't mind. You see, Mr Ross, my name isn't really Hayley. And I do agree with you, this is an extraordinary place to colonize. We folks on Venus had the same idea. We got it several years ago. And I think I should tell you now, your friends aren't coming. They've been intercepted. Oh, a colony is coming. But it's from Venus. And if you're still alive, I think you'll see how we differ. [We takes off his hat,revealing a third eye] And I agree with you about what they call music. Why don't you play some?

Incident on a small island, to be believed or disbelieved. However, if a sour-faced dandy named Ross or a big, good-natured counterman who handles a spatula as if he'd been born with one in his mouth, if either of these two entities walks onto your premises, you'd better hold their hands - all three of them - or check the color of their eyes - all three of them. The gentleman in question might try to pull you into... the Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling

Wintry February night, the present. Order of events: a phone call from a frightened woman notating the arrival of an unidentified flying object, then the checkout you've just witnessed, with two state troopers verifying the event – but with nothing more enlightening to add beyond evidence of some tracks leading across the highway to a diner. You've heard of trying to find a needle in a haystack? Well, stay with us now, and you'll be part of an investigating team whose mission is not to find that proverbial needle. No, their task is even harder. They've got to find a Martian in a diner, and in just a moment you'll search with them, because you've just landed in the Twilight Zone.