The Twilight Zone (1959) Season 2 quotes

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.

You walk into this room at your own risk, because it leads to the future. Not a future that will be but one that might be. This is not a new world. It is simply an extension of what began in the old one. It has patterned itself after every dictator that has ever planted the ripping imprint of a boot on the pages of history since the beginning of time. It has refinements. Technological advances and the more sophisticated approach to the destruction of human freedom. But like every one of the superstates that preceded it, it has one iron rule; logic is an enemy and truth is a menace. This is Mr. Romney Wordsworth, in his last 48 hours on earth. He is a citizen of the state but will soon have to be eliminated, because he is built out of flesh, and because he has a mind. Mr. Romney Wordsworth, who will draw his last breaths, in the Twilight Zone.

I am a librarian, sir. That is my occupation. That is my profession. If you people choose to call that obsolete...

Chancellor

A librarian. Having to do with books?

Yes sir, books.

Chancellor

And since there are no more books, there are no more libraries. Therefore,it follows there would be little use for the services of a librarian. Case in point,a minister would say his profession is preaching the word of God. And,of course, since the state has proven that there is no God, that would make the function of a minister somewhat academic as well.

There is a God!

Chancellor

You are in error, Mr. Wordsworth. There is no God. The state has proven that there is no God.

You cannot erase God with an edict!

Chancellor

You are obsolete, Mr. Wordsworth.

A lie. No man is obsolete

Chancellor

You have no function, Mr. Wordsworth. You're an anachronism. Like a ghost from another time.

I am nothing more than a reminder to you that you cannot destroy truth by burning pages.

Chancellor

You're a bug, Mr. Wordsworth. A crawling insect. An ugly misformed little creature who has no purpose here, no meaning.

I am a human being!

Chancellor

You're a Librarian, Mr. Wordsworth. A dealer in Books and two cent fines and pamphlets and closed stacks and the musty insides of a language factory that spews out meaningless words on an assembly line. Words, Mr. Wordsworth, that have no substance and no dimension like air, like the wind,like a vacuum that you make believe has an existence by scribbling index numbers on little cards!

I don't care. I tell you, I don't care! I am a human being! And if I speak one thought aloud, that thought lives, even after I've been shoveled into my grave!

Chancellor

Delusions, Mr. Wordsworth. Delusions that you inject into your veins with printer's ink. The narcotics that you call literature. The Bible, poetry, essays of all kind an opiate to make you think you have a strength when you have no strength at all! You have nothing but spindly limbs and a dream and the state has no use for your kind!

I am a librarian, sir. That is my occupation, and my profession. If you people choose to call that obsolete.....

Request clarification of the term.

Chancellor

Yes, Mister Wordsworth, the term "You People," do you make reference to The State?

I make reference to The State.

Chancellor

And you persist in declaring your occupation as that of a librarian. Is that correct?

Yes, sir, that is correct.

Chancellor

(his voice sneering) A librarian! Having to do with books!

Yes sir, books.

Chancellor

And since there are no more books, there are no more libraries. Therefore, it follows there would be little use for the services of a librarian. Case in point: a minister would say his profession is preaching the word of God. And, since the State has proven that there is no God, that would make the function of a minister somewhat academic as well.

There is a God!

Chancellor

You are in error, Mr. Wordsworth. There is no God. [grabbing loudspeaker] The State has proven that there is no God!

You cannot erase God with an edict!

Chancellor

You are Obsolete, Mr. Wordsworth.

A lie. No man is Obsolete.

Chancellor

You have no function, Mr. Wordsworth. You're an anachronism, like a ghost from another time.

I am nothing more than a reminder to you that you cannot destroy truth by burning pages.

Chancellor

You're a bug, Mr. Wordsworth. A crawling insect. An ugly misformed little creature who has no purpose here, no meaning.

I am a human being!

Chancellor

You're a Librarian, Mr. Wordsworth. A dealer in books and two-cent fines and pamphlets and closed stacks and the musty insides of a language factory that spews out meaningless words on an assembly line. Words, Mr. Wordsworth, that have no substance and no dimension. Like air, like the wind, like a vacuum that you make believe has an existence by scribbling index numbers on little cards!

I don't care! I am a human being! And if I speak one thought aloud, that thought lives, even after I've been shoveled into my grave!

Chancellor

Delusions, Mr. Wordsworth. Delusions that you inject into your veins with printer's ink. The narcotics that you call literature. The Bible, poetry, essays of all kind an opiate to make you think you have strength when you have no strength at all! You have nothing but spindly limbs and a spindly dream. The State has no use for your kind!

[speaking as the new Chancellor] Stand where you are. No further. You have been removed from office; the field investigators have declared you Obsolete.

Chancellor

Obsolete?

You have disgraced the State, you have proven yourself a coward, you have therefore no function. You are Obsolete.

Chancellor

But I'm not. I'm not Obsolete.

You are Obsolete!

Obsolete! Obsolete!

YOU ARE OBSOLETE!

Obsolete! Obsolete! Obsolete! Obsolete! Obsolete! Obsolete!

Chancellor

You're making a terrible mistake. A tragic mistake! I'm not Obsolete! I work for the State, I help the State! I help give the State its strength! How can you call me Obsolete!? HOW CAN YOU?! [Silence fills the chamber] Please, I'm not Obsolete.

Chancellor

Please... please, I'm not obsolete. I have a function, I have a purpose. Please... I want to serve the State, please! Please, no! I'm not obsolete! No, no, I- I- please, please, I'm not- I'm not obsolete, no! I want to serve the State... Please! Please! NO! I want to serve the State! Please! [the growling jurors close in on the ex-Chancellor, who breaks away with a yell and is chased across the room to the new Subaltern's seat] PLEASE, I'M- I'M NOT OBSOLETE!!! [He is grabbed, pulled down the length of the table, and dragged off to be killed as he screams]

Rod Serling

The chancellor, the late chancellor, was only partly correct. He was obsolete. But so was the State, the entity he worshiped. Any state, any entity, any ideology that fails to recognize the worth, the dignity, the rights of man, that state is obsolete. A case to be filed under "M" for "mankind" - in the Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling

The Chancellor, the late Chancellor, was only partly correct. He was obsolete. But so is the State, the entity he worshipped. Any state, entity, or ideology becomes obsolete when it stockpiles the wrong weapons: when it captures territories, but not minds; when it enslaves millions, but convinces nobody. When it is naked, yet puts on armor and calls it faith, while in the Eyes of God it has no faith at all. Any state, any entity, any ideology that fails to recognize the worth, the dignity, the rights of Man...that state is obsolete. A case to be filed under "M" for "Mankind" - in The Twilight Zone.