700 Best The Twilight Zone Quotes

Rod: [opening narration] The place is here, the time is now, and the journey into the shadows that we're about to watch could be our journey.

Narrator: [opening narration] Talky Tina, the doll that does everything, a lifelike creation of plastic and springs and painted smile. To Erich Streator, she is a most unwelcome addition to his household - but without her, he'd never enter The Twilight Zone.

Max: Who's your best buddy, Pip?
Young: You, Pop. You're my best buddy.

Janie: And just where would you be if it weren't for my appetite?
Gart: I know where I'd like to be.
Janie: Where's that?
Gart: A place called Willoughby, a little town I manufactured in a dream.
Janie: Tell me about your dream, Gart.
Gart: It was an odd dream. Very odd dream. Willoughby. It was summer, very warm. Kids were barefooted. One of them had a fishing pole. It all looked like a Currier and Ives painting. Bandstand, bicycles, wagons. I've never seen such serenity. It was the way people must have lived a hundred years ago. Crazy dream.

Major: [after Forbes explained the story to Gart] Clegg? I don't know Ed Harrington. I've never heard of him before. I think he must be an illusion or something.
Lieutenant: [eerily calm] Oh, I know he's not an illusion. I know. He's been yanked out of here. He's been taken away. He told me, remember? He told me maybe someone or something made a mistake. Let us get through when we shouldn't have gotten through. It's gotta come back to get us, somebody up there.
[Overcome by the same feeling Harrington has]
Lieutenant: Oh, Bill, this is weird. It's just plain weird; like I just don't belong. Just like I... I don't belong.
[sees he no longer has a reflection in a mirror, horrified]
Lieutenant: Oh, no! OH, NO! I DON'T WANT THIS TO HAPPEN! BILL, I DON'T WANT IT TO HAPPEN! I DON'T WANT IT TO HAPPEN!
[runs out of room]
Lieutenant: I DON'T WANT IT TO HAPPEN!
Major: [hobbling after Forbes] Clegg! CLEGG!
[looks into the hallway to find that Forbes has disappeared]
Major: Somebody get him! Somebody get him... Somebody... Somebody get him...
Nurse: [sees Gart standing in his doorway and walks over to him] Major, you shouldn't be out of bed. Why, if the doctor could see you...
Major: Somebody's got to help him. Colonel Forbes. Somebody's got to help him right away.
Nurse: Who?
Major: COLONEL FORBES!
[sighs]
Major: You know Col. Forbes. Why, he was brought in here with me. Why, he was right over here on this...
[turns to see there is only one bed in the room, his. The bed next to him which Forbes' occupied has disappeared]
Major: Oh, my dear god.
Nurse: Major. Major, let me help you get into bed. And I'll-I'll call the doctor. Come here.
[helps Gart into bed]
Nurse: A-Are you alright?
[leaves the room]
Nurse: Major? Major Henderson?
[when the nurse leaves, Gart looks at the newspaper and sees only his photo. Horrified, he also disappears]

[closing narration]
Narrator: We are all travelers. The trip starts in a place called birth, and ends in that lonely town called death. And that's the end of the journey, unless you happen to exist for a few hours, like Bunny Blake, in the misty regions of The Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Where will he go next? This phantom from another time, this resurrected ghost of a previous nightmare. Chicago? Los Angeles? Miami, Florida? Vincennes, Indiana? Syracuse, New York? Anyplace, everyplace, where there's hate, where there's prejudice, where there's bigotry. He's alive. He's alive so long as these evils exist. Remember that when he comes to your town. Remember it when you hear his voice speaking out through others. Remember it when you hear a name called, a minority attacked, any blind, unreasoning assault on a people or any human being. He's alive because, through these things, we keep him alive.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] You're looking at a specie of flimsy little two-legged animal with extremely small heads, whose name is Man. Warren Marcusson, age thirty-five. Samuel A. Conrad, age thirty-one.
Narrator: [continued opening narration subsequent to character dialogue] They're taking a highway into space, Man unshackling himself and sending his tiny, groping fingers up into the unknown. Their destination is Mars, and in just a moment we'll land there with them.

Grant: Have you checked out every one of the names on this passenger manifest?
Airline: No, I have not.That's all I need now is to have a small army of relatives from upstate New York clutching at my lapels, asking me for a definitive statement as to where their loved ones are who took Flight 107 out of Buffalo this morning.

Agnes: What's the signal for "I'm sorry"?

Narrator: [Opening Narration] One Colonel Cook, a traveler in space. He's landed on a remote planet several million miles from his point of departure. He can make an inventory of his plight by just one 360-degree movement of head and eyes. Colonel Cook has been set adrift in an ocean of space in a metal lifeboat that has been scorched and destroyed and will never fly again. He survived the crash but his ordeal is yet to begin. Now he must give battle to loneliness. Now Colonel Cook must meet the unknown. It's a small planet set deep in space, but for Colonel Cook, it's the Twilight Zone.

The: [who just helped him carry a huge, heavy 1935 console radio upstairs] Think it still works?
Ed: [starts to turn on radio] Sure. Of course, it works. They made things to last in those days, boy.
The: [listens to some modern, loud, blaring, rock 'n' roll instrumental music on the radio] Hey, that's pretty wild, alright.
Ed: [upset that he likes modern music, shows him the door, gives him some coins] Get out. Go buy yourself a switch-blade!

Cmdr. William Fletcher: [knocking out Craig after he terrorized the little people] You're no God, Craig! That's not what you are at all! The only trouble is that... by now you've gotten them to believe in the Devil.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] June twenty-fifth 1964 - or, if you prefer, June twenty-fifth 1876. The cast of characters in order of their appearance: a patrol of General Custer's cavalry and a patrol of National Guardsmen on a maneuver. Past and present are about to collide head-on, as they are wont to do in a very special bivouac area known as... the Twilight Zone.

Mr. Carsville: You, Mr. Bemis, are a reader!
Henry: A reader?
Mr. Carsville: A reader! A reader of books, magazines, periodicals, newspapers! I see you constantly going downstairs into the vault during your lunch hour.
[Bemis tries to sit down, but Carsville slams on the desk]
Mr. Carsville: An ultimatum, Mr. Bemis! You will henceforth devote time to your job and forget reading or you'll find yourself outdoors on a park bench reading from morning to night for want of having a job! Do I make myself perfectly clear?
Henry: Oh, that's perfectly clear, sir, it's just that...
Mr. Carsville: [interrupting] "Just that" what, Bemis? Make it quick and get back to your cage!
Henry: [sitting down] It's just that my wife won't let me read at home. See, when I get home at night and try to pick up a newspaper, she yanks it out of my hand! And then after dinner, if I try to find a magazine, she hides them. Well, I got so desperate found myself trying to read the labels on the condiment bottles on the table. Now, she won't even let me use the ketchup.
Mr. Carsville: [smiling] Unasked, I give my reaction to this: your wife is an amazingly bright woman.
[Bemis gives a thunderstruck look]

Pat: You're just a stupid piece of junk, aren't you?
Don: It all depends upon your point of view.

David: Honest men make unconvincing liars.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Mr. Fitzgerald Fortune, theater critic and cynic at large, on his way to a birthday party. If he knew what is in store for him, he probably wouldn't go, because before this evening is over, that cranky old piano is going to play 'Those Piano Roll Blues' - with some effects that could happen only in the Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Incident one hundred miles off the coast of Guadalcanal. Time: The present. A United States naval destroyer, on what has been a most uneventful cruise. In a moment, they're going to send a man down thirty fathoms and check on a noisemaker - someone or something tapping on metal. You may or may not read the results in a naval report, because Captain Beecham and his crew have just set a course that will lead this ship and everyone on it - into the Twilight Zone.

Avery: Didn't figure us Martians would know nothin' about the great American pastime, did ya?

Rod: [Closing Narration] Nan Adams, age twenty-seven. She was driving to California; to Los Angeles. She didn't make it. There was a detour... through the Twilight Zone.

Emily: Can you believe she said that, Father? The younger generation! "They jest at scars which never felt a wound"!
Jason: Emily, I believe my trouble is hardening of the arteries and a very weak heart. But if you don't stop massacring Sarah Bernhardt, I believe I shall succumb to an intestinal disorder!

[closing narration]
Narrator: Mr. Fitzgerald Fortune, a man who went searching for concealed persons and found himself - in the Twilight Zone.

Fitzgerald: Don't laugh at me.
Marvin: I'm not laughing, Mr. Fortune. You're not funny anymore.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Joey Crown, who makes music, and who discovered something about life; that it can be rich and rewarding and full of beauty, just like the music he played, if a person would only pause to look and to listen. Joey Crown, who got his clue in the Twilight Zone.

Captain: Are you all right, Mr. Lanser? I mean, is there anything - well, anything that you want to tell us?
Carl: There is very little that I can tell you, as I don't remember anything. I don't really know how I got on this ship. I don't recall anything about it. I seem to remember only odd disjointed things. I know, for example, that my name is Carl Lanser. I know that I was born in Frankfurt.
Captain: Go on, Mr. Lanser.
Carl: Go on? Go on how? It seems to be all that I know.

[opening narration]
Narrator: You're riding on a jet airliner en route from London to New York. You're at 35,000 feet atop an overcast and roughly fifty-five minutes from Idlewild Airport. But what you've seen occur inside the cockpit of this plane is no reflection on the aircraft or the crew. It's a safe, well-engineered, perfectly designed machine. And the men you've just met are a trained, cool, highly efficient team. The problem is simply that the plane is going too fast, and there is nothing within the realm of knowledge or at least logic to explain it. Unbeknownst to passenger and crew, this airplane is heading into an uncharted region well off the beaten track of commercial travelers - it's moving into The Twilight Zone. What you're about to see we call 'The Odyssey of Flight 33.'

Rod: [Closing Narration] Lewis J. Bookman, age sixtyish. Occupation: pitchman. Formerly a fixture of the summer, formerly a rather minor component to a hot July. But, throughout his life, a man beloved by the children, and therefore, a most important man. Couldn't happen, you say? Probably not in most places - but it did happen in the Twilight Zone.

Charles: What a choice - to keep an attendant from pawing at my pulse all day, I have to sit like a vegetable on that porch.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] This is Mr. Jackie Rhoades, age thirty-four, and where some men leave a mark of their lives as a record of their fragmentary existence on Earth, this man leaves a blot, a dirty, discolored blemish to document a cheap and undistinguished sojourn amongst his betters. What you're about to watch in this room is a strange and mortal combat between a man and himself, for in just a moment, Mr. Jackie Rhoades, whose life has been given over to fighting adversaries, will find his most formidable opponent in a cheap hotel room that is in reality the outskirts of The Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: It was a very small, misery-laden village on the day of a hanging, and of little historical consequence. And if there's any moral to it at all, let's say that in any quest for magic, in any search for sorcery, witchery, legerdemain, first check the human heart, for inside this deep place is a wizardry that costs far more than a few pieces of gold. Tonight's case in point - in the Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: The Salvadore Ross program for self-improvement. The all-in-one, surefire success course that lets you lick the bully, learn the language, dance the tango, and anything else you want to do - or think you want to do. Money-back guarantee. Offer limited to - The Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Picture of a man who will not see anything he does not choose to see - including his own death. A man of such indomitable will that even the two men beneath his command are not allowed to see the truth; which truth is, that they are no longer among the living, that the movements they make and the words they speak have all been made and spoken countless times before - and will be made and spoken countless times again, perhaps even unto eternity. Picture of a latter-day Flying Dutchman, sailing into The Twilight Zone.

Rod: We hope you enjoyed tonight's romantic story on The Twilight Zone. At the same time, we want you to realize that it was, of course, purely fictional. In real life, such ridiculous nonsense could never...
Gregory: Rod, you shouldn't!
[Gregory interrupts Rod Serling. He walks over to his safe and pulls out a tape marked Rod Serling]
Gregory: I mean, you shouldn't say such things as "nonsense" and "ridiculous!"
[Gregory continues as he throws the tape into the fire]
Rod: Well, that's the way it goes.
[in a resigned tone as he fades away]
Narrator: [Closing Narration] Leaving Mr. Gregory West, still shy, quiet, very happy - and apparently in complete control of the Twilight Zone.

The: Go away. Go away! You go take your war to more suitable companions. This is CIVILIAN territory!

Mike: [to his reflection] I'm sorry, old buddy; I don't recollect the name. The face is vaguely familiar but the name escapes me.

Peter: I'm all steel now. Ernst, I'm made of steel. No sentiment, no softness. Just purpose and will.
Ernst: Then shoot. Kill. Destroy me.
[Peter shoots Ernst, who collapses to the floor]
Ernst: All steel, all strength. But at the expense of the thing most other men have. Some fragments of decency to tell them right from wrong... make them feel guilt at dishonor... that make them... that make them love. Yes, Peter... you have steel... but you have no heart.
[Ernst dies]

James A. Corry: There's no more problems. There's no more problems on heaven or earth.

[last lines]
Narrator: [Closing Narration] Mr. Jesse Cardiff, who became a legend by beating one, but who has found out, after his funeral, that being the best of anything carries with it a special obligation to keep on proving it. Mr. Fats Brown, on the other hand, having relinquished the champion's mantle - has gone fishing. These are the ground rules - in The Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: 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.

Roger: It won't hurt her?
Professor A. Daemon: If anybody gets hurt, it'll be you, but I don't expect you to believe me.

Ernst: I've seen it before. I've seen it all before.
Proprietor: That was another time, Mr. Ganz. Another place, another kind of people. That doesn't go here.
Ernst: That's what we said, too. They were brown scum. Temporary insanity, part of the passing scene, too monstrous to be real. So, we ignored them or laughed at them. Because we couldn't believe that there were enough insane people to walk alongside of them. And then one morning, the country woke up from an uneasy sleep, and there was no more laughter. The Peter Vollmers had taken over. The wild animals had changed places with us in the cage. But not again. It mustn't happen again. We can't let it. We simply can't let it happen again. All, all that nightmare. Oh, no. No, not this time.

Franklin: [Franklin picks up the small stack of silver dollars he'd won in the casino, and is about to sneak out of the room to go back downstairs and try to win more, when his wife turns on the light and catches him in the act. So, he hastily feigns an excuse to try and justify his actions] This isn't the kind of money I like to keep, Flora. This is tainted, this is... highly immoral. No good can come from money won like this. I'm going back in there and feed it back into the machine, Flora, and get rid of it.
Flora: [she stares at him, dumbfoundedly, then dismisses it and smiles] Oh, Franklin, do you really think...?
Franklin: Of course. If there's one thing I know, Flora, it's morality, and I will not have this tainted money smelling up our pockets. I'm going back in there and I'm just going to get rid of it.

Carl: [at 1:15, when the U-boat arrives] The U-boat's coming. We have to get the engines started. No, we must abandon ship. Yes! We must abandon ship, yes! We must abandon ship!
[he goes outside of the cabin, only to see the light of the U-boat]
Carl: IT'S HERE! That's the U-boat out there! The U-boat's here! The U-boat's here! We've got to get out of here, everybody! We have got to leave the ship! Everybody! They're going to sink us! Don't you hear me? Are you out of your minds, all of you? There's a U-boat out there! I saw it! She's going to sink us! What do I have to do to you? Do I have to grab you and put you on deck? Do I have to grab you bodily and put you in the lifeboats? Do I have to knock you unconscious or...?
[the passengers suddenly vanish]

Marilyn: Yes, but is that good? Being like everybody? I mean, isn't that the same as being nobody?

[last lines]
Narrator: [Closing Narration] The flight of Mr. Robert Wilson has ended now, a flight not only from point A to point B, but also from the fear of recurring mental breakdown. Mr. Wilson has that fear no longer, though, for the moment, he is, as he has said, alone in this assurance. Happily, his conviction will not remain isolated too much longer, for happily, tangible manifestation is very often left as evidence of trespass, even from so intangible a quarter as The Twilight Zone.

Professor A. Daemon: Always the same way. First the stimulant... then the chaser.

Rod: [Closing Narration] The best-laid plans of mice and men - and Henry Bemis, the small man in the glasses who wanted nothing but time. Henry Bemis, now just a part of a smashed landscape, just a piece of the rubble, just a fragment of what man has deeded to himself. Mr. Henry Bemis - in the Twilight Zone.

Jamie: Uh, Colonel, I would like to have that check certified and placed on deposit in my name, a photostat of it available, and witnessed by every member of this club.
Col. Archie Taylor: That might be the usual procedure in a Fish Market or a Pawn Shop, but not in this Club and not with me. My credit is well known and so is my Honor as every member here will vouch for. There will be no check placed on deposit. You'll have to take my word.
Jamie: I see. It's my courage against your credit. Well, a year from tomorrow night, both can be proved.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] A word to the wise to all the children of the twentieth century, whether their concern be pediatrics or geriatrics, whether they crawl on hands and knees and wear diapers or walk with a cane and comb their beards. There's a wondrous magic to Christmas, and there's a special power reserved for little people. In short, there's nothing mightier than the meek, and a merry Christmas to each and all.

James: Someone has to keep the flame. Someone has to weed out those who haven't got what it takes. The champions, the legends, they serve as a purpose, a challenge, an incentive.

Hanford: [at dinner] ... So what are your world views, Driscoll?
Paul: ...I don't have any, Mr. Hanford.
Hanford: Of course you do, man. We ALL do! Like all this nonsense about giving the Indians land. What we need are twenty General Custers and a hundred thousand men! What we should have done is swept across the prairie, destroying every redskin that stood before us. Then we should have planted the American flag deep, high, and proud!
Abigail: I think the country is tired of fighting, Mr. Hanford. I think we were bled dry by the Indian Wars. I think anything we can accomplish peacefully, with treaties, we should... so long as it saves lives.
Hanford: Now, I trust this isn't the path you spoon-feed your students. Treaties, indeed! Peace, indeed! Why, the virility of a nation is in direct proportion to its military prowess. I *live* for the day when this country SWEEPS AWAY...
[notices Driscoll's disapproving look]
Hanford: ... You some kind of a pacifist, Driscoll?
Paul: No, just some sick idiot who's seen too many boys die because of too many men who fight their battles at dining room tables... and who probably wouldn't last so long as twenty-five seconds in a REAL skirmish if they WERE thrust into it.
Hanford: ...I take offense at that remark, Mr. Driscoll!
Paul: And I take offense at "armchair warriors" like yourself - who clearly don't know what a shrapnel, or a bullet, or a saber wound feels like... or what death smells like after three days on an empty, sun-drenched battlefield... who've never seen the look on a man's face when he realizes he's lost a limb, and his blood is seeping out. Mr. Hanford, you have a great enthusiasm for "planting the American flag deep, high, and proud." But you don't have a nodding acquaintance with what it's like for American families to bury their sons in the same soil!

Marilyn: Oh, Mother - Mother, don't you understand? They don't care whether you're beautiful or not, they just want everyone to be the same, that's all!

Mr. Fremont: It's snowing outside! Anthony, are you making it snow?
Anthony: Yes, I'm making it snow.
Mr. Fremont: Why, that'll ruin half the crops! You know that, don't you, half the crops! That's what that...
Mrs. Fremont: [runs to her husband's side, hoping to calm him] Dan!
Mr. Fremont: [coming to his senses] But it's good that you're making it snow, Anthony, - it's real good. And tomorrow - tomorrow's going to be a real good day!

Ossie: [finds out Jess-Belle went to Granny Hart] What did you pay her with?
Jess: [hesitantly] My flesh and blood... my soul... my brain... my dreams... my hands.

Marty: Hey, remember me, Gerry? Marty Fisher, your friendly neighborhood movie director.

The: Prekrasny.

Peter: Today, young Mr. Gallegos, killer of children, dances on the gallows!

[opening narration]
Narrator: Time: the mid-twenties. Place: the Midwest - the southernmost section of the Midwest. We were just witnessing a funeral, a funeral that didn't come off exactly as planned, due to a slight fallout - from The Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: The cast of characters: a cat and a mouse. This is the latter. The intended victim who may or may not know that he is to die, be it by butchery or ballet. His name is Major Ivan Kuchenko. He has, if events go according to certain plans, perhaps three or four more hours of living. But an ignorance shared by both himself and his executioner is of the fact that both of them have taken a first step - into The Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Mr. Booth Templeton, who shared with most human beings the hunger to recapture the past moments, the ones that soften with the years. But in his case, the characters of his past blocked him out and sent him back to his own time, which is where we find him now. Mr. Booth Templeton, who had a round-trip ticket - into The Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: You've seen them. Little towns, tucked away far from the main roads. You've seen them, but have you thought about them? Have you wondered what the people do in such places, why they stay? Philip Redfield thinks about them now, and he wonders, but only very late at night, when he's between wakefulness and sleep - in The Twilight Zone.

Pedott: It must stop now!
Fred: Why? Why does it have to stop?
Pedott: Because the things you need most, I can't supply.
Fred: What are they?
Pedott: Serenity, peace of mind, humor, the ability to laugh at oneself. Those are the things you need most, but it beyond my power to give them to you.

Citizen: People of the Soviet Union would like to ask the Kanamits precisely, and I repeat that to him, precisely what are your motives in coming here quite uninvited? Are we to assume there is no ulterior motive beyond this vast humanity you speak of?
Kanamit: There is nothing ulterior in our motives. Nothing at all. You will discover this for yourselves before too long. Simply by testing the various devices which we will make available to you. We can show you, for example, how to add a certain very cheap nitrate to the soil and end famine on earth for good and all. We can demonstrate to you quite practically the principles of the force field in which you may cloak each nation with an invisible wall, absolutely impenetrable by bombs, missiles, or anything else. We ask only that you trust us. Only that you simply trust us.

Peter: You, you picked me. You picked me!
Adolf: I did not pick you, Mr. Vollmer. You picked me!

Rod: [Closing Narration] Street scene, night. Traffic accident. Victim named Fred Renard, gentleman with a sour face to whom contentment came with difficulty. Fred Renard, who took all that was needed - in The Twilight Zone.

Chris: What is it?
Bill: The opening.
Ruth: To what?
Bill: I think - to another dimension.

[first lines]
Narrator: [Opening Narration] You're looking at a tableau of reality, things of substance, of physical material: a desk, a window, a light. These things exist and have dimension. Now this is Arthur Curtis, age thirty-six, who also is real. He has flesh and blood, muscle and mind. But in just a moment we will see how thin a line separates that which we assume to be real with that manufactured inside of a mind.

Talky: My name is Talky Tina, and I am going to kill you.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Sheriff Charlie Koch on the morning of an execution. As a matter of fact, it's seven-thirty in the morning. Logic and natural laws dictate that at this hour there should be daylight. It is a simple rule of physical science that the sun should rise at a certain moment and supersede the darkness. But at this given moment, Sheriff Charlie Koch, a deputy named Pierce, a condemned man named Jagger, and a small, inconsequential village will shortly find out that there are causes and effects that have no precedent. Such is usually the case - in the Twilight Zone.

Jesse: I've been looking over next week's script where you knock the gun out of Billy the Kid's hand from 4 stories up, half a block away, with a lamp.
Rance: No good, huh?

Boris: What, are we not going to kill him?
Commissar: The impatience of the bourgeois. They do not sip wine. They gulp it down like a soft drink. They do not caress women. They devour them. They do not sniff at the essence of a rare perfume. No, they try to jam it into their nostrils. Boris, the gentleman will die. Indeed, he will. But I want him to die with finesse, with subtlety and a degree of thought. That is a good death.
Boris: I did not know there was a good death and a bad death.

Ramos: Murderers can never be murdered; murderers can only be executed!

Rod: [Closing Narration] Mr. Bolie Jackson, a hundred and eighty-three pounds, who left a second chance lying in a heap on a rosin-spattered canvas at St. Nick's Arena. Mr. Bolie Jackson, who shares the most common ailment of all men, the strange and perverse disinclination to believe in a miracle, the kind of miracle to come from the mind of a little boy, perhaps only to be found in the Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Exit Miss Virginia Lane, formerly and most briefly Mrs. Alex Walker. She has just given up a battle and in a strange way retreated, but this has been a retreat back to reality. Her opponent, Alex Walker, will now and forever hold a line that exists in the past. He has put a claim on a moment in time and is not about to relinquish it. Such things do happen - in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] Exit one Paul Driscoll, a creature of the twentieth century. He puts to a test a complicated theorem of space-time continuum, but he goes a step further - or tries to. Shortly, he will seek out three moments of the past in a desperate attempt to alter the present - one of the odd and fanciful functions in a shadowland known as the Twilight Zone.

Prof. Walter Jameson: [as he is aging rapidly after being shot] Nothing lasts forever. Thank God.
[groans and collapses on the floor]

[opening narration]
Narrator: James Elwood, master programmer, in charge of Mark 502-741, commonly known as 'Agnes,' the world's most advanced electronic computer. Machines are made by men for man's benefit and progress, but when man ceases to control the products of his ingenuity and imagination, he not only risks losing the benefit, but he takes a long and unpredictable step into - the Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: No one ever saw one quite like that, because that's a very special sort of radio. In its day, circa 1935, its type was one of the most elegant consoles on the market. Now, with its fabric-covered speakers, its peculiar yellow dial, its serrated knobs, it looks quaint and a little strange. Mr. Ed Lindsay is going to find out how strange very soon - when he tunes in to The Twilight Zone.

Jason: [dying] ... It's what you've all been waiting for, I believe. Now you can dig deep in the treasury.
Emily: Are you feeling weaker, father?
Jason: At last, a note of hope in your voice, Emily.
Emily: Why must you always say such miserable, cruel things to me?
Wilfred: I quite agree, Father!
Jason: Why indeed, Emily. Because you're cruel and miserable people. Because none of you respond to love. Emily responds only to what her petty hungers dictate, a prime example being her marriage to Wilfred... a marriage which broke her dear late mother's heart, in every sense! Wilfred responds only to things that have weight and bulk and value. He feels books; he doesn't read them. He appraises paintings; he doesn't seek out their truth or their beauty. And Paula there lives in a mirror. The world is nothing to her than a reflection of herself. And her brother. Humanity to him is a small animal caught in a trap to be tormented. His pleasure is the giving of pain, and from this, he receives the same sense of fulfillment most human beings get from a kiss or an embrace! You're caricatures. All of you. Without your masks, you're caricatures.

Narrator: [opening narration] Confidential personnel file on Salvadore Ross. Personality: a volatile mixture of fury and frustration. Distinguishing physical characteristic: a badly-broken hand, which will require emergency treatment at the nearest hospital. Ambition: shows great determination toward self-improvement. Estimate of potential success: a sure bet for a listing in Who's Who - in The Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: "The quality of mercy is not strained, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It blesseth him that gives and him that takes." Shakespeare, 'The Merchant of Venice', but applicable to any moment in time, to any group of soldiery, to any nation on the face of the Earth - or, as in this case, to the Twilight Zone.

Arthur: It isn't just an antique shop where you pick up the pitiful remnants of other people's failures, it's a shrine to failure itself! That's what it is.

Adolf: [Peter has returned after executing Ernst Ganz] ... What did you kill, Mr. Vollmer? A man?
Peter: Not a man, a disease. One which had to be cured.
Adolf: [approving] Indeed. How did it feel, to cure this disease?
Peter: ...It felt like I was *immortal.*
Adolf: [thunderous] Mr. Vollmer! WE *ARE* IMMORTAL!

Steve: [Trying to expain the odd occurences] Meteors can do crazy things you know. Like sunspots.

[last lines]
Narrator: [Closing Narration] The modus operandi for the departure from life is usually a pine box of such and such dimensions, and this is the ultimate in reality. But there are other ways for a man to exit from life. Take the case of Arthur Curtis, age thirty-six. His departure was along a highway with an exit sign that reads, 'This Way To Escape.' Arthur Curtis, en route to the Twilight Zone.

Sandra: But I couldn't let you leave, Doug, not without saying goodbye. Not without telling you I--I loved you very much. And I shall sorely miss you. And that my life, whatever there is left of it, shall be a strangely meaningless, dull and empty thing without you to share it.

Feathersmith: You... you don't have another daughter?
Gibbons: That delightful little thing is my one and only. Sings beautifully, doesn't she?
Feathersmith: Oh, yes, like a bird.
[under his breath]
Feathersmith: Like a ruptured rooster.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Professor Ellis Fowler, teacher, who discovered rather belatedly something of his own value. A very small scholastic lesson from the campus of - The Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Exit the infernal machine, and with it his satanic majesty, Lucifer, prince of darkness - otherwise known as Mr. Smith. He's gone, but not for good; that wouldn't be like him - he's gone for bad. And he might be back, with another ticket - to the Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Tonight, a presentation so special and unique that for the first time in the five years we've been presenting The Twilight Zone, we're offering a film shot in France by others. Winner of the Cannes Film Festival of 1962, as well as other international awards, here is a haunting study of the incredible from the past master of the incredible, Ambrose Bierce. Here is the French production of 'An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge.'

Airline: Look, boys... we've have been theorizing for six solid hours. I'm just a simple-minded vice president in charge of operations, but I've got a passel of newsmen out there bugging me to death as to what kind of haunted operations we are running here.
Paul: Tell them to keep their shirts on.
Airline: That's what you should be telling them or a reasonable facsimile of an explanation.
Paul: Then you better get me another head and a couple of sets of arms, because I've been on that phone for six hours. I've had every news service, every television network, and a couple of professional mind readers trying to figure out what the great big mystery is we're supposed to be hiding in here. And you know how long I can keep it up, Mr. Bengston? Maybe another 15 minutes and then the whole thing is going to pop wide open and we're going to be stuck with rotten egg on our face. And Sheckly, and the government, are going to take our franchise away from us. Incompetence, mental instability, and and you name it, you can have it!

[opening narration]
Narrator: Two men alone in an attic. A young Japanese-American and a seasoned veteran of yesterday's war. It's twenty-odd years since Pearl Harbor, but two ancient opponents are moving into position for a battle in an attic crammed with skeletons, souvenirs, mementos, old uniforms, and rusted medals. Ghosts from the dim reaches of the past that will lead us - into The Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Mr. Goldsmith, survivor, an eye witness to man's imperfection, an observer of the very human trait of greed, and a chronicler of the last chapter - the one reading 'suicide.' Not a prediction of what is to be, just a projection of what could be. This has been the Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Final comment: you take this with a grain of salt or a shovelful of earth, as shadow or substance, we leave it up to you. And for any further research, check under 'G' for 'ghosts' in the Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Portrait of an American family on the eve of invasion from outer space. Of course, we know it's merely fiction - and yet, think twice when you drink your next glass of water. Find out if it's from your local reservoir, or possibly, it came direct to you - from The Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Some superstitions, kept alive by the long night of ignorance, have their own special power. You'll hear of it through a jungle grapevine in a remote corner of the Twilight Zone.

SS: Stop calling me captain! I'm not a soldier anymore.
Alfred: You never were a soldier. The uniform you wore cannot be stripped off, it was part of you. Part of your flesh, part of your body. It was a piece of your mind.
[raises left arm]
Alfred: A tattoo, captain. The skull and crossbones, burned into your soul.
SS: I was a SOLDIER, Becker!
Alfred: No captain, you were a sadist. You were a monster who derived pleasure from giving pain.

Henry: [drunkenly as all the children and moms look on] As to my drinking, this is indefensible and you have my abject apologies. I find of late that I have very little choice in the matter of expressing emotions.
Mr. Dundee: Please, lower your voice...
Henry: I can either drink, or I can weep, and drinking is so much more subtle. But as for my insubordination, I was not rude to that woman. Someone should remind her that Christmas is more than barging up and down department store aisles and pushing people out of the way. Someone has to tell her that Christmas is another thing finer than that. Richer, finer, truer, and it should come with patience and love, charity, compassion. That's what I would have told her if you'd given me the chance. I don't know how to tell you, Mr. Dundee. I don't know at all. All I know is that I'm an aging, purposeless, relic of another time, and I live in a dirty rooming house on a street filled with hungry kids and shabby people, where the only thing that comes down the chimney on Christmas Eve is more poverty. Do you know another reason why I drink, Mr. Dundee? So that when I walk down the tenements, I can really think it's the North Pole, and the children are elves, and that I'm really Santa Claus bringing a bag of wondrous gifts for all of them. I just wish, Mr. Dundee, on one Christmas, only one, that I could see some of the hopeless ones and the dreamless ones. Just on one Christmas, I'd like to see the meek inherit the Earth. And that's why I drink, Mr. Dundee, and that's why I weep.

Janet: I just want to be normal! Why can't I be normal?

Narrator: [Opening Narration] Picture of an aging man who leads his life, as Thoreau said, 'in quiet desperation.' Because Harmon Gordon is enslaved by a love affair with a wife forty years his junior. Because of this, he runs when he should walk. He surrenders when simple pride dictates a stand. He pines away for the lost morning of his life when he should be enjoying the evening. In short, Mr. Harmon Gordon seeks a fountain of youth, and who's to say he won't find it? This happens to be The Twilight Zone.

Feathersmith: Now, as to the price.
Miss: Yes, Mr. Feathersmith, as to price.
Feathersmith: Well, I suppose the standard payment is, um, well, I guess you'd call it the soul.
Miss: On occasion, Mr. Feathersmith that is part of the transaction. But in your case, we got a hold of your soul some time ago, I believe.

Dr. Bill Stockton: [Grace drops a jug of water] Take it easy, take it easy, now make believe it's perfume, and it costs $100 an ounce, and in a few hours it'll probably be worth more.

The: [the Major has fallen out of the cylinder] Brave man. Not a very bright one.
The: He'll come back for us. I know he will.
The: He may be back, but it won't be to get us. He may have been right at that. He may have been very right. This may be Hell.

Luís: I'm free!
Sheriff: Are any of us free? But you can go home now. You have that much freedom.
Gallegos: Luís? It was magic! It was magic dust! It brought back love to the people.
Luís: Yes, father, it was magic. Time to go home now. Please, let's go home now.

Michael: *SPOILER*
[to the audience]
Michael: How about you? You still on Earth, or on the ship, with me? Well, it doesn't make very much difference because sooner or later we'll, all of us, be on the menu. All of us.

Misrell: We have now been here thirty-four minutes, Mr. Williams.
Gart: This is a communication from Jake Ross.
Misrell: Would you be so kind as to share its contents with us?
Gart: I can give you the sense of it very quickly, Mr. Misrell. This is Jake Ross's resignation. He's moving over to another agency.
Misrell: And...?
Gart: And he's taking the automobile account with him.
Misrell: That account represented a gross billing of something in the neighborhood of three million dollars a year! And how many times have you promised it to me?
Gart: This is as much a shock to me as it is to you, Mr. Misrell.
Misrell: Don't sit down! And don't con me, Williams. It was your pet project. Your pet project! Then it was your idea to give it to that little college greenie. Now, get with it, Williams! Get with it, boy! So what's left, Williams? Not only has your pet project backfired, but it's sprouted wings and left the premises. I'll tell you what's left to us in my view. A deep and abiding concern about your judgment in men. This is a push business, Williams. A push push push business. Push and drive! But personally, you don't delegate responsibilities to little boys. You should know it better than anyone else. A push push push business, Williams. It's push push push, all the way, all the time! It's push push push, all the way, all the time, right on down the line!
Gart: Fat boy, why don't you shut your mouth!

Chips: [after finding Nathan with the dead man's shoes] Oh, my dear Nathan, you really *are* smashed, aren't you?

Narrator: [Opening narration] The home of Mr. Gregory West, one of America's most noted playwrights. The office of Mr. Gregory West. Mr. Gregory West - shy, quiet, and at the moment, very happy. Mary - warm, affectionate.
[narration continues subsequent to character first lines]
Narrator: And the final ingredient - Mrs. Gregory West.

George P. Hanley: I'm going to stop buying things.
Masters: Why, that's subversive.
George P. Hanley: I beg your pardon?
Masters: It's un-American! Buying and selling is our way of life.

[repeated line]
Chief: They're calling muster on me!

Peter: [standing on a stage where there is a beauty pageant contest, talking to the frozen winner] Your majesty? I don't blame the judges. You're the prettiest of them all. But tell me something your majesty. What's wrong with you?
[to the frozen audience in front of the stage]
Peter: WHAT'S WRONG WITH EVERYBODY IN THIS CRAZY PLACE? Answer me! Can't you talk? CAN'T YOU MOVE? ANSWER ME!
[he runs off the stage and out of the tent, panting]

[opening narration]
Narrator: This is a jungle, a monument built by nature honoring disuse, commemorating a few years of nature being left to its own devices. But it's another kind of jungle, the kind that comes in the aftermath of man's battles against himself. Hardly an important battle, not a Gettysburg or a Marne or an Iwo Jima. More like one insignificant corner patch in the crazy quilt of combat. But it was enough to end the existence of this little city. It's been five years since a human being walked these streets. This is the first day of the sixth year - as man used to measure time. The time: perhaps a hundred years from now - or sooner. Or perhaps it's already happened two-million years ago. The place: The signposts are in English so that we may read them more easily, but the place - is The Twilight Zone.

Rod: [Closing Narration] Once upon a time, there was a major league baseball team called the Hoboken Zephyrs, who, during the last year of their existence, wound up in last place and shortly thererafter wound up in oblivion. There's a rumor, unsubstantiated, of course, that a manager named McGarry took them to the West Coast and wound up with several pennants and a couple of world championships. This team had a pitching staff that made history. Of course, none of them smiled very much, but it happens to be a fact that they pitched like nothing human. And if you're interested as to where these gentlemen came from, you might check under 'B' for Baseball - in The Twilight Zone.

Avery: [saluting jukebox] Take me to yer leader!

Fenton: [drapes his old Army dress green over his chest, chuckles] Can you imagine I once got into it?
Taro: [half-heartedly] Sure, why not?
Fenton: [wistfully] Yeah, you're just being polite. I'm a tub of rancid lard now, but I was pretty tough once.

Edward: You mind if I walk around a bit? It's the only way I can stay awake.
Dr. Rathmann: Stand on your head, if you think it'll help.
[Hall laughs]
Dr. Rathmann: What's funny?
Edward: You are. Are you sure you're a psychiatrist?
Dr. Rathmann: Why do you ask?
Edward: I don't know. I guess I expected something different.
Dr. Rathmann: Like an old man with a white beard and a German accent?
Edward: Maybe.
Dr. Rathmann: I know. It's what everybody expects, and they're always disappointed.

[Opening narration - season 3]
Narrator: You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. Your next stop, the Twilight Zone!

Wanda: You *tricked* me! It was you all the time!
Harold: Yes. I tricked you.
Wanda: But why? The moment I let you inside you could've taken me any time! But you were nice. You made me trust you!
Harold: But, I had to make you understand! Am I really so bad? Am I really so frightening? You've talked to me, you've confided in me. Have I tried to hurt you?
[he stands and leans against the wall]
Harold: It isn't me you're afraid of. You understand me. What you're afraid of is the unknown.
[Wanda looks frightened]
Harold: [Gently, holding out his hand] Don't, don't be afraid.
Wanda: But I *am* afraid!
Harold: [still gently, smiling] The running's over! It's time to rest. Give me your hand.
Wanda: But I don't want to die!
Harold: [holding out his hand] Trust me.
Wanda: [backing away] No. No.
Harold: Mother. Give me your hand.
[crying, Wanda slowly puts her hand in his]
Harold: [laughing softly] You see? No shock. No... engulfment. No tearing asunder. What you feared would come like an explosion, is like a whisper. What you thought was the end, the beginning.
Wanda: [with hushed excitement] When will it happen? When will we go?
Harold: Go? Look.
[He glances to the side; following his gaze, Wanda sees her body on the bed, peaceful in its final repose]
Harold: We have already begun.
[Both smiling now, he takes her arm in his and escorts her into the light]

[closing narration]
Narrator: Exit Mr. Garrity, a would-be charlatan, a make-believe con man and a sad misjudger of his own talents. Respectfully submitted from an empty cemetery on a dark hillside that is one of the slopes leading to - The Twilight Zone.

Rod: [Closing Narration] Mr. Henry Fate, dealer in utensils and pots and pans, liniments and potions. A fanciful little man in a black, frock coat, who can help a man climbing out of a pit - or another man from falling into one. Because, you see, Fate can work that way - in The Twilight Zone.

James A. Corry: Alicia and I'll climb into that ship of yours, and we'll - we'll look out the port, and we'll give it all a big kiss goodbye.
Adams: Who, Corry?
Captain: Oh, my dear God, I forgot her.
Adams: He's out of his mind. Who's Alicia?
Captain: A robot.
James A. Corry: She's a woman.
Captain: Corry, she's a robot.
James A. Corry: She's a woman! She's gentle and kind. Allenby, she kept me alive. Why, if it wasn't for her, I'd have been finished. I'd have given up.

The: Blanket the Earth, and infiltrate and weaken! And now we know that there must be a single purpose, a single norm, a single approach, a single entity of peoples, a single virtue, a single morality, a single frame of reference, a single philosophy of government! We must cut out all that is different, like a cancerous growth! It is essential that in this society, that we not only HAVE a norm, but that we CONFORM to that norm! Differences weaken us! Variations destroy us! An incredible permissiveness to deviation from this norm is what has ended nations and brought them to their knees. Conformity we must worship and hold sacred! Conformity is the KEY to SURVIVAL!

Harmon: [after receiving the experimental serum] Well, when can I expect some change?
Dr. Raymond Gordon: Within 6 hours. That's when the first physical change is noted. As for the mental change, none of the rats or guinea pigs have told me what the feeling was.

Rance: Last year we had a script where one of the Dalton boys got away.
Jesse: I know, he TOLD me.
Rance: Oh.

Roger: I'm in love with somebody named Leila, but she's not in love with me, and... I don't know why I'm telling you this.
Professor A. Daemon: I do. I can arrange it so she'll love you.
Roger: How?
Professor A. Daemon: I promise you she'll never leave your side. When she isn't telling you she loves you, she'll be gazing at you lovingly. She won't even eat before you do, and nothing will be too much for you to ask of her. She'll worship you. She'll beg for kisses, and weep for joy at your touch. And if in passing time you should perhaps look at another girl, or, even do a little more than look, she'll feel hurt. But she'll forgive you, and love you just the same. Frankly, you'd get the same shake from a cocker spaniel.
Roger: But that's wonderful! That's all in the world I want: my Leila's love!
Professor A. Daemon: [Talking to himself] His Leila's love. If it isn't his Leila's love, it's his Dorothy's love, his Rea's love, or his Gwen's love.

Joe: Mister, you're just talkin' words! Justice, right and wrong. They sound good in this nice warm room and a nice full stomach, just a few feet away from a soft bed. They sound nice, and they go down easy! But you just try 'em on an ice cold mesa, where another man's bread or another man's jacket stands between you and stayin' alive. You get in this machine of yours, and you go back to where I was, and you talk about your law and your order and your justice. They're gonna sound different! Mister, I know your kind. Your clean face, your Johnny-come-lately dandies. You come out in your warm trains rollin' over the graves of men like me! I just hate your kind!

Somerset: Man, the last time I saw anything that looked like you, I'd been four days on the corn jug.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Sergeant William Connors, Trooper Michael McCluskey, and Trooper Richard Langsford, who, on a hot afternoon in June, made a charge over a hill - and never returned. Look for this one under 'P' for phantom, in a historical ledger located in a reading room known as the Twilight Zone.

Henry: [noticing someone inked on his poetry pages, obscuring the text] Helen... Who did this, Helen?
Helen: Who do you think did it, Henry? You should thank me, really. A grown man who reads silly, ridiculous, nonsensical doggerel.
Henry: This isn't doggerel! There's some very beautiful things here.
Helen: I say it's doggerel. I also say it's a waste of time.
[snatches the poetry book and rips out pages]
Henry: Helen! Helen! Don't do that! Helen, please don't do that! Why, Helen? Why do you do these things?
Helen: Because I'm married to a fool!

[last lines]
Ione: Look at my cloak. Is the wind blowing it across the grave?

Jerry: Sweet dreams, Willie. Your next booking is in a fireplace.

Narrator: [opening narration; includes material cut for syndication] Meet Mr. George P. Hanley - a man life treats without deference, honor or respect. Waiters serve his soup cold. Elevator operators close doors in his face. Mechanics overcharge him for half-hearted labor. Novelty cake-bakers misspell his name. Clubs refuse him for membership on sight. Clerks roll their eyes at his questions. Shoeshine boys give him slapdash service at best. Therapists giggle at him. Pledge drive-workers turn down his donations. And mothers never bother to wait up for the daughters he dates. George is a creature of humble habits and tame dreams. He's an ordinary man, Mr. Hanley... but, at this moment, the accidental possessor of a very special gift: the kind of gift that measures men against their dreams, the kind of gift most of us might ask for first and possibly regret to the last... if we, like Mr. George P. Hanley, were about to plunge head-first and unaware into our own personal Twilight Zone.

Rod: [Opening Narration] Infantry platoon, U.S. Army, Phillipine Islands, 1945. These are the faces of the young men who fight, as if some omniscient painter had mixed a tube of oils that were at one time earth brown, dust gray, blood red, beard black, and fear - yellow white, and these men were the models. For this is the province of combat, and these are the faces of war.

Jenny: [CUTTING-ROOM FLOOR-LINE] I don't understand something. If your people have a Council and all these rules, what do they need a king for?
Old: [CUTTING-ROOM FLOOR-LINE] Well, as a very wise - if somewhat cynical - gentleman once said, "People don't want leadership; they want convenience." That gentleman was my father. And, even if they shouldn't, I suspect his words apply just as much to your planet as to mine.

Mr. Halpert: Well, where is it?
Salvadore: What?
Mr. Halpert: This wonderful item that I'm supposed to purchase.
Salvadore: Well, you're lookin' at it.
Mr. Halpert: I'm looking at it?
Salvadore: Yeah, it's youth. That's what I want to sell you.
Mr. Halpert: Youth that comes in bot...?
[pushing him out]
Mr. Halpert: Come on, get out of here.
Salvadore: No. Wait a minute, wait a minute. Look, I read in the paper that you're 72 years old, right? I'm 26. Now, what would you give to be 26 years old again, hmm?
Mr. Halpert: I think you're the kookiest kid they ever turned loose on the streets.

Mitchell: Tell us one of them real whoppers.
Scanlan: Where you been the last couple of hours? Did you invent somethin' or maybe took a quick trip to the moon, huh?
Somerset: Now, you know you ain't very far wrong? Do you know who them fellas was out there in that car? Well I'll tell ya who they was. They was from outer space.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] This is Mr. Henry Corwin, normally unemployed, who once a year takes the lead role in the uniquely popular American institution, that of a department store Santa Claus in a road company version of 'The Night Before Christmas.' But in just a moment, Mr. Henry Corwin, ersatz Santa Claus, will enter a strange kind of North Pole, which is one part the wondrous spirit of Christmas and one part the magic that can only be found in - The Twilight Zone.

Rod: [Opening Narration] 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.

Sheriff: There are only two people here who have the right to ask for an eye for an eye. What about it, Mr Canfield?
Mrs. Canfield: No more today, John. No more!
John: He killed our child!
Mrs. Canfield: And part of himself while doing it. And he's suffered enough.
John: Sherriff Koch, there must be... there must be another hand in this, for the rope to break like that. Another hand. Maybe... maybe the hand of providence.
Sheriff: You want to stop at that, Mr Canfield?
[Mr Canfield nods, and turns to walk away]
Man: John? We leave it like this?
John: We leave it like this. One victim is enough.
[addressing the crowd]
John: I think we should all go home now.

Fred: [putting on new shoes] These shoes are too tight. These shoes are too tight! And they got leather soles. I hate leather soles. They're slippery. But they're what I need aren't they? I put 'em on and then I walk someplace, is that it? I walk someplace where I find what I need. What's with it, old man? What happens? I'm waiting!
Pedott: Patience. That's another thing that you need, Mr. Renard. Patience
Fred: What are you doing, giving me the business? Is that what you're doing, giving me the business? You know, I can come over there and take you apart bone by bone!
[approaches menacingly to Pedott]
Fred: Come on, old man, tell me. Are these what I need?
Pedott: I didn't say they were. But I'll tell you something; They happen to be what *I* need.
[Enraged, Renard tries to pursue Pedott, only to slide on the wet pavement. A car comes by and Renard reacts in terror as he is hit and killed]
Pedott: Mr. Renard, what I saw in your eyes at that bar was death, my death. You were going to kill me. So what was needed for Mr. Renard was slippery shoes. That's what was needed, slippery shoes.

Rod: [opening narration] Mr. and Mrs. Franklin Gibbs - three days and two nights, all expenses paid, at a Las Vegas hotel, won by virtue of Mrs. Gibbs' knack with a phrase. But unbeknownst to either Mr. or Mrs. Gibbs is the fact that there's a prize in their package neither expected nor bargained for. In just a moment, one of them will succumb to an illness worse than any virus can produce, a most inoperative, deadly, life-shattering affliction known as The Fever.

The: For our purposes, this is the universe. This little room, right here.

Al: I was good. I was real good. I was so good that once a day, someone would ride into town to make me prove it. And every morning, I'd start my drinkin' a few minutes earlier. Until one morning, the guy who asked me to prove it turned out to be sixteen years old. I left him there on his face. Right there in front of the saloon. I left him there bleedin' to death with my bullet in him. I guess it'll start all over again, now. Every fast and fancy man who owns a gun will come riding in down that street. Only this time it'll be me face down, bleedin' to death. I think I'll go in and get a shave. I wanna look proper on the day I die.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] Take away a man's dream, fill him with whiskey and despair, send him to a lonely bridge, let him stand there all by himself looking down at the black water and try to imagine the thoughts that are in his mind. You can't, I can't. But there's someone who can - and that someone is seated next to Douglas Winter right now. The car is headed back toward town, but its real destination is the Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] What you're witnessing is the curtain-raiser to a most extraordinary play; to wit, the signing of a pact, the commencement of a project. The play itself will be performed almost entirely offstage. The final scenes are to be enacted a decade hence and with a different cast. The main character of these final scenes is Ilse, the daughter of Professor and Mrs. Nielsen, age two. At the moment she lies sleeping in her crib, unaware of the singular drama in which she is to be involved. Ten years from this moment, Isle Nielsen is to know the desolating terror of living simultaneously in the world - and in The Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: As must be obvious, this is a house hovered over by Mr. Death, an omnipresent player to the third and final act of every life. And it's been said, and probably rightfully so, that what follows this life is one of the unfathomable mysteries, an area of darkness which we, the living, reserve for the dead - or so it is said. For in a moment, a child will try to cross that bridge which separates light and shadow, and, of course, he must take the only known route, that indistinct highway through the region we call The Twilight Zone.

Bus: When the supervisor comes to claim the bus, tell him I've resigned.
[jumps out the window]

Mike: [in an ice cream shop, talking to his reflection] I'll tell you what my problem is. I'm in the middle of a nightmare I can't wake up from. And you're part of it. You and the ice cream and the police station and the phone booth, that little mannequin, this whole bloody town, wherever it is, whatever it is. I just remembered something. Scrooge said it. You remember Scrooge, old buddy? Ebenezer Scrooge? That's what he said to that ghost, Jacob Marley. He said, "You may be a bit of undigested beef, a crumb of cheese, a blot of mustard, a fragment of an undone potato. But there's more of gravy than of grave about you." You see, that's what you are. You're what I had for dinner last night. You must be. But now I've had it. I'd like to wake up. I'd like to wake up now. If I can't wake up, at least I'd like to find somebody to talk to.
[noticing the local high school basketball schedule]
Mike: Well, I must be a very imaginative guy. Nobody in the whole bloody world could have a dream as complete as mine... right down to the last detail.

Gart: I'm tired, Janie. I'm tired, and I'm sick.
Janie: Well, then you're in the right ward. We specialize in people that are sick, and tired, too, Gart. I'm sick, and I'm tired, of a husband who lives in a kind of permanent self-pity. A husband with a heart bleeding sensitivity that he unfurls like a flag, whenever he decides the competition is a little too rough for him.
Gart: Some people aren't built for competition, Janie, or big pretentious houses they can't afford, or rich communities they don't feel comfortable in, or country clubs they wear around their neck like a badge of status.
Janie: And you would prefer...?
Gart: I would prefer, though never asked before, a job, any job, any job at all where I could be myself! Where I wouldn't have to climb on a stage and go through a masquerade every morning at nine o'clock, and mouth all the dialogue and play the executive, and make believe I'm the bright young man on the way up, because I'm not that person, Janie! You've tried to make me that person, but that isn't me, that's isn't me at all! I'm... I'm a not very young, soon to be old, very uncompetitive, rather dull, quite uninspired, average type guy. With a wife who has an appetite.

Roger: Professor, you don't know what it's like. All the time: love, love, love!
Professor A. Daemon: I do know what it's like. How do you think I came to invent 'the glove cleaner?'

Rod: [Closing Narration] Mr. Franklin Gibbs, visitor to Las Vegas, who lost his money, his reason, and finally his life to an inanimate metal machine variously described as a one-armed bandit, a slot machine, or, in Mr. Franklin Gibbs' words, a monster with a will all its own. For our purposes, we'll stick with the latter definition - because we're in the Twilight Zone.

Rod: [Closing Narration] On a microscopic piece of sand that floats through space is a fragment of a man's life. Left to rust is the place he lived in and the machines he used. Without use, they will disintegrate from the wind and the sand and the years that act upon them. All of Mr. Corry's machines, including the one made in his image, kept alive by love, but now obsolete - in The Twilight Zone.

Rod: [Opening Narration] Witness Flight Lieutenant William Terrance Decker, Royal Flying Corps, returning from a patrol somewhere over France. The year is 1917. The problem is that the Lieutenant is hopelessly lost. Lieutenant Decker will soon discover that a man can be lost not only in terms of maps and miles, but also in time - and time in this case can be measured in eternities.

Rod: [Closing Narration] Behind a tiny ship heading into space is a doomed planet on the verge of suicide. Ahead lies a place called Earth, the third planet from the sun. And for William Sturka and the men and women with him, it's the eve of the beginning - in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] Dramatis personae: Mr. Simon Polk, a gentlemen who has lived out his life in a gleeful rage; and the young lady who's just beat the hasty retreat is Mr. Polk's niece, Barbara. She's lived her life as if during each ensuing hour, she had a dentist appointment. There's yet a third member of the company soon to be seen. He now resides in the laboratory and he is the kind of character to be found only in the Twilight Zone.

Frank: Pete, don't let him do this. Put him down. Put him down.
Ernst: Yeah, put me down, put me down! Shut me up. Stifle me - why don't you? Why can't you?
[He grabs Peter's arm, showing his organization's insignia]
Ernst: Because this is your courage right here. This is your strength. This, and the torch lights, and the crowd, and the Sieg Heil!
[Peter slaps Ernst's face]
Ernst: ... The rebuttal. The only sort of answer your kind knows how to give.
[to the crowd]
Ernst: This is your fuhrer. He's yours. I give him to you. A gift from the sewers.

Rod: [Closing Narration] To the wishes that come true, to the strange, mystic strength of the human animal, who can take a wishful dream and give it a dimension of its own. To Barbara Jean Trenton, movie queen of another era, who has changed the blank tomb of an empty projection screen into a private world. It can happen - in the Twilight Zone.

Chancellor: Since there are no more books, Mr. Wordsworth, there are no more libraries. And of course it follows that there is very little call for the services of a librarian. Case in point: A minister. A minister would tell us that his function is that of preaching the word of God. And, of course, it follows that since the State has proven that there is no God, that would make the function of a minister somewhat academic, as well.
Romney: There *is* a God!
Chancellor: [shocked silence] You are in error, Mr. Wordsworth; there is no God! The state has proven that there is no God!
Romney: You cannot erase God with an edict!

Salvadore: Well, are you happy now that you've convinced her that she's too much for a *bum* like Salvadore Ross, hmm?
Mr. Maitland: I admit I wouldn't choose you for my daughter, but it's not my decision, it's hers. Besides, I may be wrong about you. She obviously sees you differently than I do.
Leah: No, I don't.
[turns to Sal]
Leah: Not anymore.
[Leah goes in with her father and closes the door]
Salvadore: Why can't I want something in my life and get it?
[punches the door]
Salvadore: Just once.

Max: Hey, God? Hey, God. I'll make a deal with you. I give you... I give you the sodden carcass of a... of an aging, weak idiot. I give you me. All you have to give back is Pip.
[crying]
Max: Please, God. Don't take my boy. Please... take me. Take me.
[dies]

Mike: Hey! Where is everybody?

Roger: I don't think you're making any sense at all.
Professor A. Daemon: My boy, that's all I make. Which is why I'm such a lonely man.

Alicia: I brought you some water.
James A. Corry: Put it over there.
Alicia: It'll get warm just sitting there.
James A. Corry: [snickers] How would you know?
Alicia: I can feel thirst.
James A. Corry: Yeah? What else can you feel?
Alicia: I don't understand.
James A. Corry: Can you feel heat?
Alicia: Yes.
James A. Corry: And cold?
Alicia: Yes.
James A. Corry: And hunger?
Alicia: [Alicia nods]
James A. Corry: How bout pain? Can you feel pain?
Alicia: That, too.
James A. Corry: How? You're a machine, aren't you?
Alicia: Yes.
James A. Corry: Why would... Why didn't they build you to look like a machine? Why didn't they build you out of metal with bolts and wires and electrodes and things like that? Why'd they turn you into a lie, cover you with something that looks like flesh, give you a face?
James A. Corry: [turns to face Alicia] A face, that if I... if I look at long enough, makes me think, makes me believe that...
[Alicia caresses Corry's cheek]
James A. Corry: [grabs her hand and throws it away] It's a lie!

Maitre: [believes he's staring at Dagget's girlfriend] You like to live dangerously, do you?
Nathan: Am I?
Maitre: If you keep on staring at this woman.
Nathan: [staring at Dagget] It's not the woman I'm staring at.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] What you're looking at is a legacy that man left to himself. A decade previous, he pushed his buttons and, a nightmarish moment later, woke up to find that he had set the clock back a thousand years. His engines, his medicines, his science were buried in a mass tomb, covered over by the biggest gravedigger of them all: a Bomb. And this is the Earth ten years later, a fragment of what was once a whole, a remnant of what was once a race. The year is 1974, and this is the Twilight Zone.

Salvadore: How much would you give to be 26 years old again? How much?
[Halpert just looks at him]
Salvadore: Well, come on, how much? Um - a million bucks?
Mr. Halpert: [a little amused] All right, let's say a million dollars.
Salvadore: And what about this pad - you own it?
Mr. Halpert: Yes, I own it.
Salvadore: Do you throw that in as part of the deal?
Mr. Halpert: How do you propose to deliver these years you rave about?
Salvadore: I'm gonna sell you *my* years.
Mr. Halpert: [laughs out loud] All right, I'll tell you what you do. You wrap the years up and mail them to me, huh?
[shows Sal to the door]
Salvadore: But, now, wait a minute, how about the pad? Is that gonna be part of the deal?
Mr. Halpert: Yes, I'll make it part of the deal. I wouldn't think of taking your years for anything less than they're worth.
Salvadore: [excited] Oh man, a million bucks and this pad. You just bought yourself 46 years, Mr. Halpert.
Mr. Halpert: I'm sure I did, boy.
Salvadore: No, you're not sure. But you got a big surprise in store.
Mr. Halpert: [laughing out loud] Go on, get out of here.
[pushes him out the door]

Emily: [of the Mardi Gras masks he's presented them with] Father, you don't mean... We have to WEAR these ugly things?
Jason: Only for a few hours. Only 'til the unmasking at midnight.
Paula: Well, I won't wear mine.
Wilfred: Me, neither. It's stupid.
Wilfred: Well, Father, it seems that we're somewhat at odds here.
Jason: Not really, Wilfred. You all came here for one purpose: To watch me go and cry "bon voyage." To put coins on my closed eyes and with your free hands, start grabbing things from my shelves.
Emily: Father, that's cruel.
Jason: That's truth! You came like the IRS: to reap everything I've sown; to collect everything I've earned; to claim everything I've built. Well, I shall not disappoint you. Everything is yours. Everything is prepared. The will is made. The four of you inherit everything I own. Everything. Money. House. Property holdings, stocks, bonds. Everything.
Wilfred: Father, you're breaking our hearts.
Jason: That is indeed the most touching thing you ever dredged up by way of conversation, Wilfred. But I must include this addendum, this small proviso: You shall wear your masks until midnight. If even one of you should commit the slightest or briefest deviation from said proviso - take them off, refuse to wear them, etcetera - from my estate, you shall each receive train fare back to Boston. And that's it!
Wilfred: Well, we won't be spoilsports. If this is your pleasure, Father, we'll indulge you.
[slowly, they all don the masks]

Narrator: [Opening Narration] Given the chance, what young girl wouldn't happily exchange a plain face for a lovely one? What girl could refuse the opportunity to be beautiful? For want of a better estimate, let's call it the year 2000. At any rate, imagine a time in the future where science has developed the means of giving everyone the face and body he dreams of. It may not happen tomorrow, but it happens now, in The Twilight Zone.

Paradine: I know that, but maybe it's time we called muster on the devil.

Alan: Are there any more souvenirs? We aren't in Africa anymore any longer, we are right here in New York. You understand what I'm saying ? This is for weak people. Ignorant, uncivilized people who don't know any better. Not for you, not for me. Doris, listen to me, we have done nothing wrong, we have nothing to fear. Least of all, from a bunch of witchdoctors 5,000 miles away. What are you afraid of?

Barbara: I am no longer sowing, Uncle Simon. As of this moment, I am going to REAP!

[opening narration]
Narrator: What you have just witnessed could be the end of a particularly terrifying nightmare. It isn't - it's the beginning. Although Alan Talbot doesn't know it, he's about to enter a strange new world, too incredible to be real, too real to be a dream. It's called The Twilight Zone.

Al: [after getting his sharpshooting skills back, Dan Hotaling stands in his way in defiance. Denton slaps Hotaling in the face] And don't call me Rummy anymore!

Nan: [Nan just found out from a Mrs. Whitney on the phone that her mother is in the hospital, having suffered a nervous breakdown after finding out that Nan died in Pennsylvania six days ago when the car she drove blew a tire and overturned]
[voiceover]
Nan: Very odd. The fear has left me now. I'm numb. I have no feeling. It's as if someone had pulled out some kind of a plug in me, and everything, emotion, feeling, fear has drained out. And now I'm a cold shell. I'm conscious of things around me now. The vast night of Arizona. The stars that look down from the darkness. Ahead of me, stretch of a thousand miles of empty Mesa. Mountains, prairies, desert. Somewhere among them, he's waiting for me. Somewhere I'll find out who he is. I'll find out. I'll find out what he wants. But just know, for the first time, looking out at the night, I think I know. I think I know.
[returns to her car and looks in the vanity mirror on the visor. Instead of her reflection, she sees the hitchhiker in her place]
The: I believe you're going... my way?

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Willoughby? Maybe it's wishful thinking nestled in a hidden part of a man's mind, or maybe it's the last stop in the vast design of things - or perhaps, for a man like Mr. Gart Williams, who climbed on a world that went by too fast, it's a place around the bend where he could jump off. Willoughby? Whatever it is, it comes with sunlight and serenity, and is a part of The Twilight Zone.

Rod: [closing narration] He was Arch Hammer, a cheap little man who just checked in. He was Johnny Foster, who played a trumpet and was loved beyond words. He was Virgil Sterig, with money in his pocket. He was Andy Marshak, who got some of his agony back on a sidewalk in front of a cheap hotel. Hammer, Foster, Sterig, Marshak-and all four of them were dying.

[opening narration]
Narrator: They make a fairly convincing pitch here. It doesn't seem possible, though, to find a woman who must be ten times better than Mother, in order to seem half as good - except, of course, in The Twilight Zone.

Haley the Bartender: [Ross has emerged from the bus after the bridge collapsed: last lines] You're not even wet.
Ross: [confused] Wet. What's wet?
Haley the Bartender: What do you mean 'What's wet?' You landed in the river, but your clothes are all dry.
Ross: An illusion, that's all. Just an illusion. Like that jukebox playing in the corner. That's an illusion, too.
[the jukebox slows down and stops playing]
Ross: Or that telephone ringing.
[the phone rings]
Ross: That's an illusion, just a parlor trick.
Haley the Bartender: What are you, some kind of magician?
Ross: [produces a third arm from his right side] Who? Me? Oh, hardly.
[lighting a cigarette]
Ross: Now, uh, before you faint dead away, I ought to explain that the name isn't really Ross and I wasn't really going to Boston. No, I was sent as a kind of advance scout. You know these, uh, 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 very shortly. I think they're going to like it here. It's a lovely area, so... so remote, so pleasant so off the beaten track. Just the perfect spot for a colony, don't you think, Mr. Haley? While we're waiting, how about a little of what you call music?
Haley the Bartender: I don't mind. I happen to do a little waiting myself. You see, Mr. Ross, my name isn't Haley. 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 ought to tell you now that your friends are not coming.
[Ross looks shocked]
Haley the Bartender: 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.
[takes off his cap to reveal a third eye on his forehead]
Haley the Bartender: And I agree with you about what they call music. Why don't you play some?
[laughs contemptuously and evilly]

McNulty: [early draft; later revised] Say, uhm... You wouldn't be interested in having dinner, would ya?
Secretary: If the world as we know it was about to end, if you were its most prominent restauranteur, and if I weren't very happily married already, I *might* be. But it isn't, you aren't, and I am; so *drift*, McNulty.

James A. Corry: Allenby, I don't much care what's in it
[the crate]
James A. Corry: . But for the thought, for the decency, thank you.
Captain: Quite welcome, Corry.

Martin: They need me! They'd be lost!
Emma: Martin, they're not alive. They don't need anybody!

Meyers: This was the way it was on Earth. Not so very long ago. My great-grandfather showed me pictures of it. Quiet and peaceful.
Peter: You mean you like it here?
Meyers: I would if it were real. If I could be sure it wasn't all going to vanish in a puff of pink smoke.
Peter: [dings the bell of an ice cream cart] Well, as for me, it's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live here.
Captain: Well, like it or not, this is home from now on.
[they continue walking until they come up to a house]
Meyers: Charming. Lovely, isn't it?
Captain: If you want it, it's yours.
Meyers: Yes, that's true, isn't it?

Colonel: [after calling his parents] Clegg!
Lieutenant: Yeah?
Colonel: Come here, please. Would you come here quick?
Lieutenant: [walks over to Harrington] What's troubling you?
Colonel: Clegg, I just called home, called my folks. My mom answered the phone.
Lieutenant: Yeah.
Colonel: I told her who I was, and she said she didn't have any son named Ed Harrington. That's what she said, Clegg! And then I asked to talk to the old man. And he got on and kept telling me to get off the phone. He didn't want any practical jokester bothering his wife. He said he didn't have any son at all. What is it Clegg? What's it all mean?
Lieutenant: Well, I don't know. It's just a gag maybe.
Colonel: [shakes his head] No gag. It's all part of this feeling. This feeling I shouldn't be here, that none of us should be here! It's as if...
Lieutenant: As if what?
Colonel: As if maybe that we shouldn't have come back from that flight at all. Maybe somebody... something... made a mistake... and let us get through when we shouldn't have.
Lieutenant: Ed, you stay put. I'm going to get you a good, stiff drink, alright?
[Harrington abruptly stands up, Forbes holds him back]
Lieutenant: Now, take it easy. Stay put, alright?

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Object known as a camera, vintage uncertain, origin unknown. But for the greedy, the avaricious, the fleet of foot, who can run a four-minute mile so long as they're chasing a fast buck, it makes believe that it's an ally, but it isn't at all. It's a beckoning come-on for a quick walk around the block - in The Twilight Zone.

Captain: C'mon Corry. Time to go home. It's all behind you now, Corry. It's all behind you. It's like a bad dream. A nightmare... and when you wake up you'll be back on Earth. You'll be home.
James A. Corry: Home?
Captain: That's right. All you're leaving behind is loneliness.
James A. Corry: [He nods slowly] I must remember that. I must remember to keep that in mind.

[Opening narration - from "Mr. Bevis" to "A World of His Own"]
Narrator: You are about to enter another dimension. A dimension not only of sight and sound, but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land of imagination. Next stop, the Twilight Zone!

[closing narration]
Narrator: There was an old woman who lived in a room and, like all of us, was frightened of the dark, but who discovered in a minute last fragment of her life, that there was nothing in the dark that wasn't there when the lights were on. Object lesson for the more frightened amongst us - in or out - of The Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: An old man and a hound dog named Rip, off for an evening's pleasure in quest of raccoon. Usually, these evenings end with one tired old man, one battle-scarred hound dog, and one or more extremely dead raccoons, but as you may suspect, that will not be the case tonight. These hunters won't be coming home from the hill. They're headed for the backwoods - of The Twilight Zone.

Reverend: Don't return their hate. Don't dishonor yourself.
Jagger: Why don't you go home and get out of here? I got too much hate in me to keep plugged up anymore!
Reverend: When he came at you, Jagger... did it feel good to you then?
Jagger: What difference?
Reverend: When you aimed that gun at his head... that wasn't such a bad moment, was it?
Jagger: Good, bad, who cares?
Reverend: When you killed him, Jagger... when you blew his head off... there were no regrets then, were there? You enjoyed that, didn't you?
Jagger: You know it!
Reverend: Yes. Yes, I... I know it now. Now I know it too well. You're guilty.
[turns to the crowd]
Reverend: This man is guilty.
Jagger: It's important to get with the majority, isn't it? That's... oh, that's a big thing nowadays, isn't it, Reverend?
Reverend: That's all there is, is the majority. The minority must have died on the cross, two thousand years ago.

Romney: You never learn, do you? History teaches you nothing.
Chancellor: On the contrary, history teaches us a great deal. We had predecessors with the right idea.
Romney: Yes, like Hitler.
Chancellor: Hitler, of course.
Romney: Also Stalin.
Chancellor: Stalin, too -- but their error was not one of excess. It was simply not going far enough. Too many undesirables were left around, and undesirables eventually form a core of resistance. Old people clutch at the past and won't accept the new. The sick, the maimed, the deformed... They fasten onto the healthy body and damage it, so we eliminate them. And people like yourself -- they can perform no useful function for the State, so we put an end to them.

[opening narration]
Narrator: The word that Mrs. Bronson is unable to put into the hot, still, sodden air is 'doomed,' because the people you've just seen have been handed a death sentence. One month ago, the Earth suddenly changed its elliptical orbit and in doing so began to follow a path which gradually, moment by moment, day by day, took it closer to the sun. And all of man's little devices to stir up the air are now no longer luxuries - they happen to be pitiful and panicky keys to survival. The time is five minutes to twelve, midnight. There is no more darkness. The place is New York City, and this is the eve of the end, because even at midnight, it's high noon, the hottest day in history, and you're about to spend it - in The Twilight Zone.

Grant: Gentlemen, this is not a formal hearing. It's more in the nature of a preliminary meeting. As your Operations Chief noted, we're here to unearth as many facts as we can. I'd appreciate hearing from you only facts. You can save us all a lot of time if you'd avoid personal hypotheses, so we can keep the air clear and not clutter it up with six dozen theories. Theories happen to be my business. In the 20-odd years I've been with the FAA I've got a pretty good record in putting together jigsaw puzzles. Maybe some of them haven't been as abnormal as this one, but I'll lay my betting average on the line any hour of the day. All right? Let's get down to business.

Baron: [slips some money into Joey's pocket] For old times, Joey, huh? For old times when you had it. A magic horn. Harry James, and Max Kaminsky, and Butterfield, a little bit of all of them, baby! And you traded it off for some bad hooch, and you got took. You got the crummy end of the stick, why Joey, why?
Joey: Because I'm sad. Because I'm nothing, and because I'll live and die in a crummy one-roomer with dirty walls and cracked pipes, and... I'll never even have a girl. I'll never be anybody. Because half of me is this horn. I can't even talk to people, Baron, because this horn, that's half my language. But when I'm drunk, Baron... oh when I'm drunk, boy... I don't see the dirty walls or the cracked pipes. I don't know the clock's going or the hours are going by. 'Cause then I'm Gabriel. Oh, I'm Gabriel with the golden horn. And when I put it to my lips, it comes out jeweled. It comes out a symphony. It comes out the smell of fresh flowers in summer. It comes out beauty... beauty. When I'm drunk, Baron. Only when I'm drunk.

Joe: Done for the night, McNulty? Everybody's gone, you happy? You bored ten people to death. You emptied my place like it had a smallpox sign out there. Do me a favor, will you, McNulty? Whenever you get the thirst, go to some other bar.
[drops the beer glass he was holding]
McNulty: [presses the button of a stopwatch he was given by another man who left the bar] I don't feel much like going home. I've seen the movie on the late show. I've even seen the movie on the late late show. Sometimes I even wished I was married. Do you ever get that feeling...
[turns to see that Joe is frozen in place]
McNulty: Joe? Joe. Hey, why you standing that way? Joe? Hey, Joe, say something. You look like you were frozen. All I was doing was telling you how bored I was. And this crazy gleep gave me this watch, and I sat here and I pressed it.
[presses the button again, and Joe starts moving normally]
Joe: And that's another thing, McNulty. You make me nervous. First, you come in here, you bore people to death, and then you make me nervous.
McNulty: I make you nervous?
Joe: You know, something, McNulty? You're the one guy that makes me wish they never repealed prohibition.
[McNulty presses the watch button, and Joe freezes in place. McNulty walks up behind Joe]
McNulty: Something tells me this is a very unusual watch.
[presses the button and Joe starts moving normally again]
Joe: And another thing, McNulty... McNulty?
McNulty: I'm over here.
[Joe looks in shock to see McNulty standing behind him. McNulty leaves the bar]

Adam: Probe 7 is no longer probing, General, unless it's the few subterranean feet where I landed.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Portrait of a TV fan. Name: Joe Britt. Occupation: cab driver. Tonight, Mr. Britt is going to watch 'a really big show,' something special for the cabbie who's seen everything. Joe Britt doesn't know it, but his flag is down and his meter's running, and he's in high gear, on his way - to The Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] The Twilight Zone has existed in many lands, in many times. It has its roots in history, in something that happened long, long ago and got told about and handed down from one generation of folk to the other. In the telling, the story gets added to and embroidered on, so that what might have happened in the time of the Druids is told as if it took place yesterday, in the Blue Ridge mountains. Such stories are best told by an elderly grandfather on a cold winter's night by the fireside - in the southern hills of The Twilight Zone.

Rod: [Opening Narration] Witness Mr. Henry Bemis, a charter member in the fraternity of dreamers. A bookish little man whose passion is the printed page but who is conspired against by a bank president and a wife and a world full of tongue-cluckers and the unrelenting hands of a clock. But in just a moment, Mr. Bemis will enter a world without bank presidents or wives or clocks or anything else. He'll have a world all to himself - without anyone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: One time in a million, a coin will land on its edge, but all it takes to knock it over is a vagrant breeze, a vibration, or a slight blow. Hector B. Poole, a human coin, on edge for a brief time - in the Twilight Zone.

Judge: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?
Jury: We have, your Honor.
Judge: And what is the verdict?
Jury: Your Honor, we find the defendant, Adam Grant, guilty of murder in the first degree.
Judge: The defendant will rise.
[Adam remains seated]
Judge: The defendant will rise!
Attorney: [putting his hand on his shoulder] Adam
Judge: [Adam rises] Adam Grant, you have been tried by a jury of your peers and found guilty. Do you have anything you wish to say before sentence is passed?
Judge: [Adam remains silent] Very well. It is the sentence of this court, that for the brutal and despicable crime of murder in the first degree, you shall be put to death by means of electrocution.
Adam: [starts to laugh hysterically]
Adam: [slamming his hand on the table] NO! Not again! I won't die again!
[lunging at the judge]
Adam: You can't make me die again!

Man: Why don't we get some kind of battering ram?
Frank: Yeah, we could go over to Bennett Avenue, Phil Cline has some heavy pipe in his basement, I've seen it.
Man: No, no, that would bring him into the act too, and who cares about saving him? No, if we do that, we'll let all those people know we have a shelter on our street. We'll have a whole mob to contend with, with a whole bunch of strangers.
Mrs. Henderson: Sure, and what right have they got to come over here? This isn't their street, this isn't *their* shelter.
Jerry: Ohhhh, this is *our* shelter, and on the next street that's another country. Patronize home industries, you idiots, you fools, you're insane, all of you.

Woodrow: [title card]
[yelling at a person]
Woodrow: CENSORED.
[yells at another person, title card]
Woodrow: ALSO CENSORED.

Pitcher: Who ever heard of a dame with a brace bein' captain?

Dagget: The fella that gave you this message, what did he look like?
Nathan: Now, Bernie, my business is forgetting. Not remembering.

[closing narration]
Narrator: A sickness known as hate; not a virus, not a microbe, not a germ - but a sickness nonetheless, highly contagious, deadly in its effects. Don't look for it in the Twilight Zone - look for it in a mirror. Look for it before the light goes out altogether.

Mike: Air Force. What does that mean? Was there a bo... that must have been it, a bomb. But if there was a bomb, everything would be destroyed, and nothing is destroyed.

McNulty: You wouldn't be interested in having dinner, would you?
Secretary: If I was starving to death and you were the last man on Earth and it meant my survival, I might be. But I'm not, you're not, and it doesn't. So DRIFT, McNulty.

Archibald: [after successfully making his landlady disappear] Concentration. Mind over matter. Today the landlady. Tomorrow, the world!

Henry: Everything I ever got out of this world I had to drag out of it.

Roger: Professor, I am going out of my ever-loving mind. I can't stand it anymore!
Professor A. Daemon: Naturally.
Roger: Is there such a thing as being loved too much? Isn't there some way we can just quiet it down a little?
Professor A. Daemon: No.
Roger: Well, isn't there some potion that will transfer a little of this love to someone else? Like a nice cocker spaniel?
Professor A. Daemon: Not a chance. She's yours.
Roger: But she's so nice to me! She's so very good!
Professor A. Daemon: I know. 'The glove cleaner' is the only way.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Madeiro, Mexico, the present. The subject: fear. The cure: a little more faith. An RX off a shelf - in the Twilight Zone.

Old: [lying in the next hospital bed] You do something to your hand?
Salvadore: No. I came here for a good night's sleep. The Waldorf was gettin' on my nerves.
Old: I bet it hurts.
Salvadore: Yeah, it hurts.
Old: You're still lucky, though.
Salvadore: My luck wins prizes.
Old: [coughing] No, I mean, I've got this awful congestion in my chest.
Salvadore: Are you gripin' about a cold?
Old: At your age, it might just be a cold. But at mine, it could easily turn into pneumonia. You know, young man, you could break both legs and an elbow, and you'd still be swimming inside of a month.
Salvadore: Yeah? Well, if you think this is so great, well, let's swap. You take my busted hand, and I'll take your lousy cold.
Old: [laughs and then begins to cough again] It's a deal.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Enigma buried in the sand, a question mark with broken wings that lies in silent grace as a marker in a desert shrine. Odd how the real consorts with the shadows, how the present fuses with the past. How does it happen? The question is on file in the silent desert, and the answer? The answer is waiting for us - in the Twilight Zone.

The: [of the Major] Very active chap. Quite a function. Compulsive worker.
The: [still tapping the wall] You a big-time psychologist, huh?
The: I'm a clown. Which is neither here, there, nor anyplace. I could be a certified public accountant, a financier, a left-handed pitcher who throws only curves. What difference does it make?
[singing to the tune of "Auld Lang Syne" while the Major pounds the wall]
The: We're here, because we're here, because we're here...
[breaks off as the Major turns to stare at him, then brokenly starts up again as he resumes hammering]
The: Because - we're - here.

Peter: You wouldn't listen to me, Ernst. You wouldn't pay attention to me.
Ernst: On the contrary. I listened to you all that I could stand.
Peter: I couldn't even begin to tell you what's happened, Ernst. It's too incredible, it's too unbelievable. There's no stopping us now.
Ernst: No stopping you, Peter. An old man stopped you tonight, with a few words. He stopped you with the truth.
Peter: No, you're wrong, Ernst. It's not just me anymore. There's someone else behind us. Someone that you would tremble at.
Ernst: He'd have to be a very imposing figure, Peter. More imposing than you.
[Peter pulls out a gun, pointing it at Ernst]
Ernst: More imposing than that, too, Peter.
Peter: That's only because you don't think I'll use it. Which only goes to show that you don't know me very well, Ernst.
Ernst: I know you, Peter. I know you. From a ravaged little boy wanting love to a torn man craving respect, identity, pride. Peter, I don't fear you, so you may do what you have in mind at any time you wish. But this last one reminder to you. You can never kill an idea with a bullet, Peter. Never.

Joe: [to McNulty, after all the other patrons have departed en masse] ... You drive more people out of saloons than Carry Nation. Here's your beer... Drink it fast; the combination of my business recession, this muggy weather and you is more than I can take in one evening!

Paradine: Mr. Dauger, I extend my sympathy so long as your yellow eats at your inside. But when it crawls onto my bivouac and tries to climb up on my horse, I withdraw my sympathy and give you the back of my hand.

Salvadore: It's all changed. I'm asking you for forgiveness. For compassion.
Mr. Maitland: Compassion? Don't you remember? I sold it to you yesterday.
[pulls out a gun and shoots Ross dead]

Marilyn: I don't want to be transformed, I want to stay ugly.

Capt. Phil Riker: [after Fitzgerald saw a light on Smitty's face and dies minutes later] Fitz?
Lt. Fitzgerald: I was up seeing Smitty.
Capt. Phil Riker: Yeah, I know. I read his tag. Doc said he's gonna be OK.
Lt. Fitzgerald: No, he isn't. I took a look on his face. I took a look at his face and I knew. And a minute later, he's gone.
Capt. Phil Riker: Same thing?
Lt. Fitzgerald: Same thing. The look... funny light or whatever it is. And I knew, Phil. I knew.
Capt. Phil Riker: Fitz, I can't explain this, but...
Lt. Fitzgerald: I don't want you to explain it. How can you explain it? I mean, how can anybody explain it. I just want you to believe it, Captain, that's all I want from you. I want you to believe it.

Joe: Love is flowers and wine with the dinner. Marriage is a floor mop and two pounds of hamburger.
Woman: Oh, I don't mind hamburger... with onions!

Narrator: [Opening Narration] Millicent Barnes, age twenty-five, young woman waiting for a bus on a rainy November night. Not a very imaginative type is Miss Barnes, not given to undue anxiety or fears, or, for that matter, even the most temporal flights of fancy. Like most career women, she has a generic classification as a "girl with a head on her shoulders." All of which is mentioned now because, in just a moment, the head on Miss Barnes' shoulders will be put to a test. Circumstances will assault her sense of reality and a chain of nightmares will put her sanity on a block. Millicent Barnes, who, in one minute, will wonder if she's going mad.

Paradine: If this cause is to be buried, let it be put in hallowed ground.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Jeff and Comfort are still alive today, and their only son is a United States Senator. He's noted as an uncommonly shrewd politician, and some believe he must have gotten his education - in The Twilight Zone.

Goldsmith: When we talked about the ways that men could die, we forgot the chief method of execution. We forgot faithlessness, Major French. Maybe you're not to blame. Maybe if it weren't you, it would have been someone else. Maybe this has to be the destiny of man. I wonder if that's true. I wonder. I guess I'll never know. I guess I'll never know.

Arthur: What about it, Genie? What can we wish for now? What can come to us without tricks?
Genie: Without tricks? I question the semantics here, Mr. Castle. There are no tricks involved. There are simply normal and understandable outgrowths and conditions that go with any windfall. No matter what you wish for, you must be prepared for the consequences.

[closing narration]
Narrator: There are many bromides applicable here: too much of a good thing, tiger by the tail, as you sow, so shall ye reap. The point is that too often man becomes clever instead of becoming wise. He becomes inventive, but not thoughtful. And sometimes, as in the case of Mr. Whipple, he can create himself right out of existence. Tonight's tale of oddness and obsolescence from - The Twilight Zone.

Sheriff: As for that boy in there, he had his trial and today he's gonna swing for it. There's nothing in his sentence that says he's gotta be tormented by a pig who sells trinkets at funerals.

Romney: Face the cameras! Step into the light! Let the whole country see the strength of the State, the resilience of the State, the courage of the State! Let the whole country see the way a valiant man of steel faces his death! You have a nirvana coming up, too. So why don't you sit down, and we'll have a little chat. Just you and me and the Great Equalizer known as Death. So here we have this strong, handsome, uniformed, bemedaled symbol of giant authority... and this insignificant librarian. And yet, in the eyes of God, there is precious little to distinguish us.
Chancellor: We shall see, Wordsworth, we shall see.

Jamie: Well, may I ask what is the reason for this wager?
Col. Archie Taylor: What I'm about to say might horrify the average person. But to someone as insensitive as you, it probably won't mean a thing. I dislike you intensely, Tennyson.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Mr. Hector B. Poole, resident of the Twilight Zone. Flip a coin and keep flipping it. What are the odds? Half the time it will come up heads, half the time tails. But in one freakish chance in a million, it'll land on its edge. Mr. Hector B. Poole, a bright human coin - on his way to the bank.

Floyd: Aint no way, baby, forget it! Not for old Floyd Burney! Man, I come too far too fast to get buried out here in Sticksville!

Peter: A man does what he believes in.
Ernst: A man usually does.
Peter: Well, I believe certain things.
Ernst: Is that a fact?
Peter: Yes, well, what difference does it make if we don't think alike about the same things? I mean, we're friends. You've known me since I was a kid.
Ernst: When you were a little kid, Peter, and I used to find you crying at my door late at night... I could pity you then.
Peter: And now?
Ernst: What do you think? Now you peddle hate on street corners, as if it were popcorn.

Rod: [Closing Narration] Kirby, Webber, and Meyers, three men lost. They shared a common wish, a simple one, really - they wanted to be aboard their ship, headed for home. And Fate, a laughing Fate, a practical jokester with a smile that stretched across the stars, saw to it that they got their wish, with just one reservation: the wish came true, but only in the Twilight Zone.

Andy: [encountering Pop on the street] Hey, old man.
Pop: You got such a debt, Andy. You owe for so many years. You owe for so many things. And now, you pay off, son.
[pulls up a revolver]
Andy: Hey! Now, wait a minute! Now, wait a minute. You - you got the wrong guy. I swear to you, you got the wrong guy!
Pop: [icily] I got the right guy.
Andy: Now, please. Please wait. Put... put the gun down now. I'll show you. I'll show you, honest! But I got to think! I got to concentrate! Just put the gun down. You'll see. I GOT TO CONCENTRATE!
[Pop fires his gun on him]

Maya: We've been expecting you, Mr. Hall.

Major: Now, I don't think any of you are going to die of radioactivity. I think if you're going to kick off, you're going to kick off either from malnutrition, or from being conned to death.
Goldsmith: If that's true, Major, at least it'll be a painless death.

Cronk: What was that name again? Featherhead?

[last lines]
Narrator: [Closing Narration] No comment here, no comment at all. We only wanted to introduce you to one of our very special citizens, little Anthony Fremont, age 6, who lives in a village called Peaksville in a place that used to be Ohio. And if by some strange chance you should run across him, you had best think only good thoughts. Anything less than that is handled at your own risk, because if you do meet Anthony, you can be sure of one thing: you have entered The Twilight Zone.

Jenny: It's a Martian! Somebody shoot!
Howie: [aiming their finger-pistols] Boing-boing-boing-boing...
[Grabbing at his heart, the monster collapses]
Old: I think ya got 'im.

George P. Hanley: Wake up you bored old genie. We're gonna wish for something original!

Narrator: [Closing Narration] It has been noted in a book of proven wisdom that perfect love casteth out fear. While it's unlikely that this observation was meant to include that specific fear which follows the loss of extrasensory perception, the principle remains, as always, beautifully intact. Case in point, that of Isle Nielsen, former resident of The Twilight Zone.

Col. Sloane: [Sloane shouts in the cavern] Captain? Benteen?
[Long pause, no response]
Col. Sloane: We know you can hear us. We know you're in here someplace. Come out. Please. Let us talk to you.
[Long pause, no response]
Col. Sloane: We're leaving now, Benteen. We have to take off in five minutes or we'll lose our orbital position. It'll be too late for us.
[Long pause, no response]
Col. Sloane: Benteen, it has to be now.
Al: Captain, please.
[Long pause, no response]
Al: Please come out!
Col. Sloane: Benteen, remember this: if we leave without you, there'll be no ships returning here. This is where you'll live from this moment on. And this is where you'll die.
[Still no response]
Col. Sloane: All right, Benteen. As you prefer. Come on, let's go, Baines.
[Exits]
Al: Good-bye... Captain Benteen.
[Exits]

William: [Over the hilarious montage tracing his efforts to "invent" the self-starter, and other modern conveniences, well before their time; he succeeds only in making a laughingstock of himself] ... I wanna talk to you about something that'll turn your two-bit tool-shed into a factory... What do you mean, enlarge on it? It's a gizmo you press with your foot that starts an engine with an electric motor... What is it used for? It's used to make twelve hundred jillion smackers, that's what it's used for... Listen, are you all there? It's a storage battery; it's a motor; it's a doohickey that starts the motor! I've given you the principle, now all you have to do is build it... Look, I am not a crummy draftsman or a cheap blueprint boy; I am a promoter, a financier. I'm gonna give you the backing; I've already given you the principle; now all you have to do is *build it*... There's everything under the sun, and you sit around fixing tricycle pedals! All it takes is a little imagination, a little drive, a little brains... *You foggy-headed carriage-builders, we could make ourselves eleventy-zillion dollars!*

Sam: Marcussoon! Marcusson, you were right! You were right. People are alike. People are alike everywhere.

Laurette: Tommy, it's wrong. You can't go on hurting people.
[shoots Walter]

Rod: [Closing Narration] There's a saying, 'Every man is put on Earth condemned to die, time and method of execution unknown.' Perhaps, this is as it should be. Case in point: Walter Bedeker, lately deceased, a little man with such a yen to live. Beaten by the Devil, by his own boredom - and by the scheme of things in this, The Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: The major ingredient of any recipe for fear is the unknown. And here are two characters about to partake of the meal: Miss Charlotte Scott, a fashion editor, and Mr. Robert Franklin, a state trooper. And the third member of the party: the unknown, that has just landed a few hundred yards away. This person or thing is soon to be met. This is a mountain cabin, but it is also a clearing in the shadows known as - The Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [closing narration] There's an old saying that goes, 'If the shoe fits, wear it.' But be careful. If you happen to find a pair of size nine black and gray loafers, made to order in the old country, be very careful. You might walk right into - The Twilight Zone.

Jesse: [Mocking Rance McGrew] Just like I figured. This guy couldn't outdraw a crayon.

Mike: [looking up names in a phone directory] Abel, Adams, Alan, Aleman. Look, boys, where are you? Where do you boys live, just in this book? Baker, Bartman, Belat, Bellman? Well, gang, who's watching the store? Who's watching any of the stores?

Narrator: [narration after opening credits] Introduction to a perfect setting: Colonial mansion, spacious grounds, heated swimming pool, all the luxuries money can buy. Introduction to two children, brother and sister: Names Jeb and Sport, healthy, happy, normal youngsters. Introduction to a mother: Gloria Sharewood by name, glamorous by nature. Introduction to a father: Gil Sharewood, handsome, prosperous, the picture of success. The man who has achieved every man's ambition: Beautiful children, beautiful home, beautiful wife. Idyllic? Obviously. But don't look too carefully, don't peek behind the facade. The idyll may have feet of clay.

McNulty: Cutchie-cutchie-Cooper!

[closing narration]
Narrator: Mr. Peter Corrigan, lately returned from a place 'back there,' a journey into time with highly questionable results, proving on one hand that the threads of history are woven tightly, and the skein of events cannot be undone, but on the other hand, there are small fragments of tapestry that can be altered. Tonight's thesis to be taken, as you will - in The Twilight Zone.

Air: How do you feel, son?
Mike: I feel much better, sir. I'm sorry about toward the end.
Air: It's all right.
Air: What was it like, Ferris? Where did you think you were?
Mike: A place I don't want to go again, sir. A town; a town without people, without anybody. What was the matter with me, doc? Just off my rocker, huh?
Air: Just a kind of a nightmare that your mind manufactured for you.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Mr. Jason Foster, a tired ancient who on this particular Mardi Gras evening will leave the Earth. But before departing, he has some things to do, some services to perform, some debts to pay - and some justice to mete out. This is New Orleans, Mardi Gras time. It is also the Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [middle narration] As of this moment, the wonderful electric grandmother moved into the lives of children and father. She became integral and important. She became the essence. As of this moment, they would never see lightning, never hear poetry read, never listen to foreign tongues without thinking of her. Everything they would ever see, hear, taste, feel would remind them of her. She was all life, and all life was wondrous, quick, electrical - like Grandma.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] Suspended in time and space for a moment, your introduction to Miss Janet Tyler, who lives in a very private world of darkness, a universe whose dimensions are the size, thickness, length of a swath of bandages that cover her face. In a moment, we'll go back into this room, and also in a moment, we'll look under those bandages, keeping in mind, of course, that we're not to be surprised by what we see, because this isn't just a hospital, and this patient 307 is not just a woman. This happens to be The Twilight Zone, and Miss Janet Tyler, with you, is about to enter it.

Joe: Give me a heart-attack sometime, will ya, McNulty? Leave a tip.

Peter: [Peter has been shot but can't believe he is actually wounded] There's something very wrong here... DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT I'M MADE OUT OF STEEL?

Prof. Walter Jameson: It's death that gives this world its point. We love a rose because we know it'll soon be gone. Whoever loved a stone?

Alien: Frisby, an incredible specimen. Done everything, knows everything, studied in most of the major universities, holds a doctorate in at least eight fields.

Ben: [finds a gun in Nathan's jacket] Happy Easter.
Dagget: You still got a message for me?
Nathan: Oh yes, but tell the Easter Bunny here, I'd like my gun back afterwards.

Ramon: [answers the door] Excuse me, sir, Mr. Penell is not at home this evening.
[Sterig pushes Ramon out of the way]
Penell: Who is it, Ramon?
Virge: It's *me*, Mr. Penell.
[Penell, in shock, drops his beer and smashes the television]
Virge: Picture tubes are expensive, but you can always get yourself another beer. Imported, isn't it? I always liked your taste, Mr. Penell.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Some one-hundred-odd years ago, a motley collection of tough moustaches galloped across the West and left behind a raft of legends and legerdemains. And it seems a reasonable conjecture that, if there are any television sets up in cowboy heaven and any one of these rough-and-wooly nail-eaters could see with what careless abandon their names and exploits are bandied about, they're very likely turning over in their graves - or worse, getting out of them. Which gives you a clue as to the proceedings that'll begin in just a moment, when one Mr. Rance McGrew, a three-thousand-buck-a-week phony-baloney discovers that this week's current edition of make-believe is being shot on location - and that location is the Twilight Zone.

Captain: Brought you some paperback books.
James A. Corry: Thanks.
Captain: And, Corry, I brought you something else, too. It'll mean my job, if they ever suspect. It'd be my neck, if they found out for sure.
James A. Corry: Look, Allenby. I don't want any gifts. I don't want tidbits. Makes me feel like an animal in a cage with an old lady out there who wants to throw peanuts at me. A pardon, Allenby. That's the only gift I want. I'm not a murderer. I killed in self-defense. There are still a lot of people who believe me, and it happens to be the truth. I killed in self-defense!
Captain: I know. I know all about it. And I doubt if this'll be any consolation to you, but this isn't an easy assignment to handle; stopping here four times a year and having to look at a man's agony.
James A. Corry: You're right, Allenby. It's very little consolation.
Captain: Well, I can't bring you freedom. All I can do is try to bring you things to help keep your sanity. Something to, uh, well anything, so you can just fight loneliness.

[first lines]
Lana: I can't decide, 8 or 12. I think 12 might suit you better. What do you think, Marilyn?
Marilyn: [looks up, while browsing catalogue] Hmm?
Lana: You weren't even listening.
Marilyn: I'm sorry, mother.
Lana: I don't understand you, darling. Most girls your age are thrilled to death when it comes time to pick a pattern. You haven't even looked at the ones the bureau sent over.
Marilyn: Oh, I looked at 'em.
Lana: [dreamily] I remember how excited I was before I was done. I couldn't sleep for nights. I finally chose number 12. I guess that's everybody's favorite.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Mr. Floyd Burney, a gentleman songster in search of song, is about to answer the age-old question of whether a man can be in two places at the same time. As far as his folk song is concerned, we can assure Mr. Burney he'll find everything he's looking for, although the lyrics may not be all to his liking. But that's sometimes the case when the words and music are recorded - in The Twilight Zone.

Steve: [Trying to be the voice of reason as his neighbors get excited] Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Now let's not be a mob!

Jonathan: [Jonathan and Caesar have been caught trying to sneak out of a night club they had broken into, by the clubs' Night Watchman. Caesar then asks the Night Watchman a question] What are you, the house dick?
Watchman: No, i'm the Night Watchman.
Jonathan: Listen flatfoot, with the job you're doing, it's a wonder the mice haven't heisted the joint.

[closing narration]
Narrator: A toy telephone, an act of faith, a set of improbable circumstances, all combine to probe a mystery, to fathom a depth, to send a facet of light into a dark after-region, to be believed or disbelieved, depending on your frame of reference. A fact or a fantasy, a substance or a shadow - but all of it very much a part of The Twilight Zone.

Arthur: [Picks up the phone and dials the operator] May I have information please. Would you get me the telephone number of Arthur Curtis, 22437 Ventner Road in Woodland Hills, please. Ventner. V-E-N-T-N-E-R.
Arthur: What? Oh, no no, you're mistaken. Of course there's a phone there.
Arthur: No, listen, it's my own home. I'm Arthur Curtis. I...
Arthur: Well I can't seem to remember it at the moment. Will you...
Arthur: No no, it's not an unlisted number. I... I don't think. Will you please try again, operator. I know there's a phone there.
Arthur: You're wrong, operator. Please connect me with your supervisor.

Dr. Samuel Thorne: ...Well, it's too fast, it's too weak, and it's too uneven. But that's to be expected at this stage.
Jason: Where were you when they were teaching bedside manner at your medical school? Trying out for the soccer team?
Dr. Samuel Thorne: Jason, I've been your physician and physical therapist for 25 years. The first thing I ever treated you for was a head-cold. As soon as I allowed myself one compassionate cluck, you threw a lamp at me. That established the pattern right then and there.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Portrait of a young lady in love - with herself. Improbable? Perhaps. But in an age of plastic surgery, body building and an infinity of cosmetics, let us hesitate to say impossible. These, and other strange blessings, may be waiting in the future, which, after all, is The Twilight Zone.

Fenton: I'm not such a bad guy, Arthur. Why is all this happening? Why? All right. Don't answer. If that's what you're here for, then kill me. Go on, I dare ya! Come on, Taro, I'm waitin' for you! Oh, so that's it. You're just tryin' to scare me. So, all right, I'm scared, but not of dyin'. Of livin'. I can't make it, Arthur, or Taro, or whatever your name is! There's nothing left, nothing! I've got a box full of decorations over there... decorations! First you're an ape, and now all of a sudden you're, you're some kind of highly cultured people! I've been pushed and pulled, this way and that way, until I hate everybody! *You dirty little Jap!*

Wilma: You know, Dane's coming back, and if you knew what was good for you...
Nathan: Oh, I know what's good for me. You.

Andrew: Lieutenant, we're about 24 months up on you. Now we've seen enough dead men to last us the rest of our lives. The rest of our lives and then some. Now you got a big yen to do some killing, okay, we'll do some killing for you. But don't ask us to stand up and cheer.

[closing narration]
Narrator: A brief epilogue for concerned parents: Of course, there isn't any such place as the gingerbread house of Aunt T, and we grownups know there's no door at the bottom of a swimming pool that leads to a secret place. But who can say how real the fantasy world of lonely children can become? For Jeb and Sport Sharewood, the need for love turned fantasy into reality. They found a secret place - in The Twilight Zone.

[repeated line]
Nurse: Room for one more, honey!

Rod: [Opening Narration] Her name: X-20. Her type: an experimental interceptor. Recent history: a crash landing in the Mojave Desert after a thirty-one hour flight nine hundred miles into space. Incidental data: the ship, with the men who flew her, disappeared from the radar screen for twenty-four hours.
Rod: [continuing narration, subsequent to character dialogue] But the shrouds that cover mysteries are not always made out of a tarpaulin, as this man will soon find out on the other side of a hospital door.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Small message of reassurance to that horizontal young lady: don't despair, help is en route. It's coming in an odd form from a very distant place, but it's, nonetheless, coming.
Narrator: [continuing narration, subsequent to extensive character dialogue] Submitted for your approval, the case of one Miss Agnes Grep, put on Earth with two left feet, an overabundance of thumbs, and a propensity for falling down manholes. In a moment, she will be up to her jaw in miracles, wrought by apprentice angel Harmon Cavender, intent on winning his wings. And, though it's a fact that both of them should have stood in bed, they will tempt all the fates by moving into the cold, gray dawn - of The Twilight Zone.

Commissar: Major Kuchenko?
Major: And you are?
Commissar: A friend. May I come in?
[Kuchenko opens the door further and Vassiloff walks in]
Commissar: Thank you.
Major: You are the one who I spoke to on the telephone?
Commissar: Mmm-hmm. We had a brief chat earlier. Well... well, it's quite a place you have here. Who occupied it before you? A rat?
Major: I had no luxury of choices.
Commissar: No, indeed, you have not. In that respect, you are a very poor man, major. But then again, you have a bed, pictures on the wall, a carpet, such as it is. Well, quite an adequate accommodation.
[looks at the windows]
Commissar: Ah! And a most wonderful view of a brick building alongside. Well, Major, there are worse places to spend an evening in.
Major: I know. I have been to many of them.
Commissar: Indeed. Indeed, you have. Siberia is quite cold, isn't it? I've been told it has a most unfortunate climate.
Major: You have been told right! It is a freezing jungle!
Commissar: A freezing jungle.
[laughs]
Commissar: Oh, that's marvelous. It's a lovely imagery. Siberia as a freezing jungle.
[laughs]
Commissar: You make reference, of course, to the people.
Major: I make reference to some people.
Commissar: Oh. It must have been unpleasant for you. Sufficiently unpleasant to motivate you to renounce your native country, and to try to seek asylum elsewhere, which brings us up to date. You were a political prisoner. You escaped. You served a term of 12 years, and now you arrive here in a neutral country, and you are desperately trying to get an aircraft to take you out of here to a western nation. But, uh... You feel you are under surveillance?
Major: I know I am under surveillance.
Commissar: Well, do you know by whom?
Major: Very well.
Commissar: Well, tell me. Who are they?
Major: Look in the mirror, Commissar.
Commissar: Discerning, Major. You remember faces.
Major: I remember pain.
[Vassiloff lights a cigarette]
Major: I remember some interrogations that went on for many months! I remember one particular man who smoked a long cigarette in a holder, stood in a corner, nodding and smiling while I went from agony to agony!
Commissar: So, Major, may we dispense with the amenities, the masquerades, the little give and take between two strangers feeling each other out?
[slams his hand against the dresser and sighs]
Commissar: Now we get right to the point. Did you honestly think we would permit you to book passage on an aircraft out of here? Impossible. As a former member of the military, even as far back as 12 years ago, you possess information that we would find embarrassing to have released elsewhere. So, it's not really to our advantage that you leave here. Of course, it would be simpler and more convenient to accompany me back to our embassy.
Major: I am sick. Tired and torn, Commissar, but I am not insane. I would sooner cut my wrists over a sink and bleed to death!
Commissar: No, Major. I'm afraid we are of two minds about that kind of death.
[stands up from his seat holding out a liquor bottle. Kuchenko stands up from sitting on the bed, aiming his gun at Vassiloff]
Commissar: Gently, gently, Major. Here. I bought some amontillado. Quite rare and pleasing to the palate.
Major: I'm afraid I will have to repeat what I said before, Commissar. I am not insane! I'm quite aware of what will happen to me if I... if I were to drink any of that.
Commissar: With your indulgence, Major, if you assume this contains cyanide, or some other poison, you're quite wrong. You see, I don't share your death wish. I'm quite a healthy man with excellent expectations as to my longevity. No, no, no, no, no. I was only proposing a social drink between the two of us. I will drink first.
Major: Such a ritual. Such a tribal rite. Commissar, you only have one purpose with me. Why don't you try to get it over with? If you want to disarm me to get rid of this, it will take more than a social wine.
[cork pops]
Commissar: Yes, indeed. As to my business with you, we both know what that is. I am to see to it that you're dead by tomorrow morning. And you shall be, Major. With a certain degree of immodesty, I can tell you I have killed 800 times you. But I've done it with subtlety, with interest, with ingenuity. I am the last of the imaginative executioners.
Major: And how do you intend to kill me?
Commissar: Let me tell you what, Major. Let's have a drink of wine first, and then I'll tell you.
[drinks from the wine bottle]
Commissar: Ah, excellent. Flavor, bouquet, just the proper amount of dryness. It's really a most exceptional wine.
[hand Kuchenko the wine]
Commissar: Join me, Major.
Major: Very well, Commissar. I will have a drink of wine and then I may kill you.
Commissar: Yes, you may very well try.
[Kuchenko drinks from the wine bottle]
Commissar: [laughs] And now let me tell you something about us. Let me explain the difference between you and me. You are a malcontent, Major. You can never accept that which is ordained. I, on the other hand, adapt to my situations. I don't have a very large salary, and my job, at least the way it's laid out, is a rather a dull one. Finding traitors and defectors and doing away with them. And in your case...
Major: In my case?
[chuckles]
Commissar: In your case, I chose to prolong it, and in the process of this prolongation, I have come up with... with something that I think is a most bizarre and novel method of execution. One designed to challenge your talents, for we are both worthy adversaries. You and me.
Major: I feel very weak.
[collapses to the floor as Vassiloff laughs malevolently]
Major: You... you monster! You drugged me!

Henry: And the best thing, the very best thing of all, is there's time now... there's all the time I need and all the time I want. Time, time, time. There's time enough at last.
[goes to pick up a book, but in doing so his glasses fall off and break. He slowly raises his glasses to his face, seeing they are completely broken]
Henry: That's not fair. That's not fair at all. There was time now. There was, was all the time I needed...

Alien: Mr. Frisby, there are some terms that we cannot relate to our own language. This word, "lie" that you mentioned.
Somerset: You mean that anything that anybody tells you just goes without saying that, well, it's the truth? Hence, everything that I told you, you believe?

May: [in his daydream] How was the Riveria, sir?
George P. Hanley: Fine, I suppose. It's like suburbia. A tract of row houses, except the houses are castles.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Introduction to Bunny Blake. Occupation: film actress. Residence: Hollywood, California, or anywhere in the world that cameras happen to be grinding. Bunny Blake is a public figure; what she wears, eats, thinks, says is news. But underneath the glamour, the makeup, the publicity, the buildup, the costuming, is a flesh-and-blood person, a beautiful girl about to take a long and bizarre journey into The Twilight Zone.

The: Who are we?
The: None of us knows, Major. We don't know who we are, we don't know where we are. Each of us woke up one moment and here we were in the darkness.
The: How can that happen?
The: That's the question we asked ourselves Major, a question with no answer. We're nameless things with no memory, no knowledge of what went before. No understanding of what is now, no knowledge of what will be.

Mike: [in an empty police station] I wish I could shake that crazy feeling of being watched... listened to.
[picking up the dispatch radio]
Mike: Calling all cars. Calling all cars. Unknown man walking around police station. Suspicious-looking character. Probably wanted by the F...
[he trails off as he notices a lit cigar]

[opening narration]
Narrator: It's August 1945, the last grimy pages of a dirty, torn book of war. The place is the Philippine Islands. The men are what's left of a platoon of American Infantry, whose dulled and tired eyes set deep in dulled and tired faces can now look toward a miracle, that moment when the nightmare appears to be coming to an end. But they've got one more battle to fight, and in a moment, we'll observe that battle. August 1945, Philippine Islands - but in reality, it's high noon - in The Twilight Zone.

The: That's logic, isn't it? But it doesn't figure at all. Not at all.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] This is William Benteen, who officiates on a disintegrating outpost in space. The people are a remnant society who left the Earth looking for a Millennium, a place without war, without jeopardy, without fear - and what they found was a lonely, barren place whose only industry was survival. And this is what they've done for three decades: survive; until the memory of the Earth they came from has become an indistinct and shadowed recollection of another time and another place. One month ago a signal from Earth announced that a ship would be coming to pick them up and take them home. In just a moment, we'll hear more of that ship, more of that home, and what it takes out of mind and body to reach it. This is the Twilight Zone.

James A. Corry: Alicia, show them! Talk to them, show them! Talk to them, Alicia. Show them. Alicia, show them!
Captain: [drawing out his gun] I don't have any choice, Corry. I've no choice at all.
Alicia: [startled] Corry?
James A. Corry: No! NO!
[Allenby fires on Alicia's face]
Alicia: Corry... Corry...
[lowers in pitch]
Alicia: Corry... Corry... Corry...
[Alicia's face is shown to be a mass of wires and circuits]

Max: Work the gun, not the jaws.

Aunt: I kinda liked it a little bit better when we had cities outside, and we could get *real* television, things like that.

[closing narration]
Narrator: This has been a love story - about two lonely people, who found each other - in The Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: The case of navigator Peter Craig, a victim of a delusion. In this case, the dream dies a little harder than the man. A small exercise in space psychology that you can try on for size - in the Twilight Zone.

Julius: You never heard of Ingrid Bergman?
[laughs]
Julius: Where ya been pal?... Never mind, don't tell me.
William: A comely woman I take it. One fairer than my love. The all seeing sun ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.
[Trumpets sound, from Romeo & Juliet, Act 1, Scene 2, by Romeo-not mentioned by Shakespeare]

Narrator: [closing narration] The recollections of one Michael Chambers with appropriate flashbacks and soliloquy. Or more simply stated, the evolution of man. The cycle of going from dust to dessert. The metamorphosis from being the ruler of a planet to an ingredient in someone's soup. It's tonight's bill of fare from The Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Cameo of a man who has just lost his most valuable possession. He doesn't know about the loss, yet. In fact, he doesn't even know about the possession. Because, like most people, David Gurney has never really thought about the matter of his identity. But he's going to be thinking a great deal about it from now on, because that is what he's lost. And his search for it is going to take him into the darkest corners - of The Twilight Zone.

[Opening narration - from "A Thing About Machines" to "The Obsolete Man"]
Narrator: You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That's the signpost up ahead - your next stop, the Twilight Zone!

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Exit Mr. John Rhoades, formerly a reflection in a mirror, a fragment of someone else's conscience, a wishful thinker made out of glass, but now made out of flesh and on his way to join the company of men. Mr. John Rhoades, with one foot through the door and one foot out - of The Twilight Zone.

The: Heading west?

Alfred: Good afternoon captain, and welcome back.
[motions]
Alfred: We've been waiting.
[Captain turns to watch gate close and lock itself]
Alfred: That's right, captain. We've been waiting for a long time.
SS: You're - you're Becker! Alfred Becker! I remember you.
Alfred: And well you should. How well you should, Captain Lutze.

Narrator: [opening narration] Nathan Edward Bledsoe, of the Bowery Bledsoes - a man once, a spectre now. One of those myriad modern-day ghosts that haunt the reeking nights of the city in search of a flop, a handout, a glass of forgetfulness. Nate doesn't know it, but his search is about to end, because those shiny new shoes are going to carry him right into the capital - of The Twilight Zone.

Rod: [Closing Narration] Dialog from a play, Hamlet to Horatio: There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Dialog from a play written long before men took to the sky: There are more things in heaven and earth and in the sky than perhaps can be dreamt of. And somewhere in between heaven, the sky, and the earth, lies The Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] Pleased to present for your consideration, Mr. Booth Templeton, serious and successful star of over thirty Broadway plays, who is not quite all right today. Yesterday and its memories is what he wants, and yesterday is what he'll get. Soon his years and his troubles will descend on him in an avalanche. In order not to be crushed, Mr. Booth Templeton will escape from his theater and his world and make his debut on another stage in another world - that we call The Twilight Zone.

Professor: [looking through school yearbook] They all come and go like ghosts. Faces, names, smiles. The funny things they said or the sad things, or the poignant ones. I gave them nothing. I gave them nothing at all. Poetry that left their minds the minute they themselves left. Aged slogans that were out of date when I taught them. Quotations dear to me that were meaningless to them. I was a failure, Mrs. Landers. An abject, miserable failure. I walked from class to class, an old relic, teaching by rote to unhearing ears, unwilling heads. I was an abject, dismal failure. I moved nobody. I motivated nobody. I left no imprint on anybody. Now, where do you suppose I ever got the idea that I was accomplishing anything?

[opening narration]
Narrator: This, as the banner already has proclaimed, is Mr. Harvey Hunnicut, an expert on commerce and con jobs, a brash, bright, and larceny-loaded wheeler and dealer who, when the good Lord passed out a conscience, must have gone for a beer and missed out. And these are a couple of other characters in our story: a little old man and a Model A car - but not just any old man and not just any Model A. There's something very special about the both of them. As a matter of fact, in just a few moments, they'll give Harvey Hunnicut something that he's never experienced before. Through the good offices of a little magic, they will unload on Mr. Hunnicut the absolute necessity to tell the truth. Exactly where they come from is conjecture, but as to where they're heading for, this we know, because all of them - and you - are on the threshold of the Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Major Ivan Kuchenko, on his way west, on his way to freedom. A freedom bought and paid for by a most stunning ingenuity. And exit one Commissar Vassiloff, who forgot that there are two sides to an argument and two parties on the line. This has been - The Twilight Zone.

[first lines]
Narrator: [Opening Narration] Tonight's story on The Twilight Zone is somewhat unique and calls for a different kind of introduction. This, as you may recognize, is a map of the United States, and there's a little town there called Peaksville. On a given morning not too long ago, the rest of the world disappeared and Peaksville was left all alone. Its inhabitants were never sure whether the world was destroyed and only Peaksville left untouched or whether the village had somehow been taken away. They were, on the other hand, sure of one thing: the cause. A monster had arrived in the village. Just by using his mind, he took away the automobiles, the electricity, the machines - because they displeased him - and he moved an entire community back into the dark ages - just by using his mind. Now I'd like to introduce you to some of the people in Peaksville, Ohio. This is Mr. Fremont. It's in his farmhouse that the monster resides. This is Mrs. Fremont. And this is Aunt Amy, who probably had more control over the monster in the beginning than almost anyone. But one day she forgot. She began to sing aloud. Now, the monster doesn't like singing, so his mind snapped at her, turned her into the smiling, vacant thing you're looking at now. She sings no more. And you'll note that the people in Peaksville, Ohio, have to smile. They have to think happy thoughts and say happy things because once displeased, the monster can wish them into a cornfield or change them into a grotesque, walking horror. This particular monster can read minds, you see. He knows every thought, he can feel every emotion. Oh yes, I did forget something, didn't I? I forgot to introduce you to the monster. This is the monster. His name is Anthony Fremont. He's six years old, with a cute little-boy face and blue, guileless eyes. But when those eyes look at you, you'd better start thinking happy thoughts, because the mind behind them is absolutely in charge. This is the Twilight Zone.

Rod: [Opening Narration] Her name is the Arrow One. She represents four and a half years of planning, preparation, and training, and a thousand years of science and mathematics, and the projected dreams and hopes of not only a nation but a world. She is the first manned aircraft into space. And this is the countdown, the last five seconds before man shot an arrow into the air.

[opening narration]
Narrator: This is one of the out-of-the-way places, the unvisited places, bleak, wasted, dying. This is a farmhouse, handmade, crude, a house without electricity or gas, a house untouched by progress. This is the woman who lives in the house, a woman who's been alone for many years, a strong, simple woman whose only problem up until this moment has been that of acquiring enough food to eat, a woman about to face terror, which is even now coming at her from - The Twilight Zone.

Sherriff: Here we are, gentlemen, treading water in a sewer.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] Joey Crown, musician with an odd, intense face, whose life is a quest for impossible things like flowers in concrete or like trying to pluck a note of music out of the air and put it under glass to treasure.
Narrator: [continued narration subsequent to extensive character dialogue] Joey Crown, musician with an odd, intense face, who, in a moment, will try to leave the Earth and discover the middle ground - the place we call The Twilight Zone.

Franklin: [after maniacally playing a slot machine for nearly 24 hours, it "deliberately" breaks down on him] Give me back my dollar, you miserable dirty... That's my last dollar!
[He attacks the machine and pushes it over; it crashes to the floor]
Franklin: GIVE ME BACK MY DOLLAR!
[he is dragged out of the casino by security guards]

Narrator: [Closing Narration] The tools of conquest do not necessarily come with bombs and explosions and fallout. There are weapons that are simply thoughts, attitudes, prejudices to be found only in the minds of men. For the record, prejudices can kill, and suspicion can destroy, and a thoughtless frightened search for a scapegoat has a fallout all of its own for the children, and the children yet unborn. And the pity of it is that these things cannot be confined to the Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Small naval engagement, the month of April 1963. Not to be found in any historical annals. Look for this one filed under 'H' for haunting - in the Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: When last heard from, Mr. Roswell G. Flemington was in a sanitarium pleading with the medical staff to make some noise. They, of course, believed the case to be a rather tragic aberration; a man's mind becoming unhinged. And for this, they'll give him pills, therapy, and rest. Little do they realize that all Mr. Flemington is suffering from is a case of poetic justice. Tonight's tale of sounds and silences - from The Twilight Zone.

Angel: You see, Mr. Simpson, a man, well, he'll walk right into Hell with both eyes open. But even the Devil can't fool a dog!

Nan: I'm conscious of things around me now -- the vast night of Arizona; the stars that look down from the darkness; ahead of me stretches a thousand miles of empty mesa - mountains, prairies, desert. Somewhere among them - he's waiting for me.

Paula: [doing her makeup in the mirror] Delighted to see you, Grandfather.
Jason: Well, that's friendly of you to tell me that, considering that you haven't seen me yet. All you've seen is your mirror image.

[opening narration]
Narrator: 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.

Narrator: [opening narration] Submitted for your approval or at least your analysis: one Patrick Thomas McNulty, who, at age forty-one, is the biggest bore on Earth. He holds a ten-year record for the most meaningless words spewed out during a coffee break. And it's very likely that, as of this moment, he would have gone through life in precisely this manner, a dull, argumentative bigmouth who sets back the art of conversation a thousand years. I say he very likely would have except for something that will soon happen to him, something that will considerably alter his existence - and ours. Now you think about that now, because this is The Twilight Zone.

William: To be or not to be Mr. Moomer, that...
[Trumpets begin to sound, but are cut short, as he appears to forget his line. He shrugs his shoulders and exits through the door. From Hamlet Act 3, Scene 1 by Hamlet-not mentioned by Shakespeare]

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Counterbalance in the little town of Ridgeview, Ohio. Two people permanently enslaved by the tyranny of fear and superstitution, facing the future with a kind of helpless dread. Two others facing the future with confidence - having escaped one of the darker places of the Twilight Zone.

Rod: [Closing Narration] They say a dream takes only a second or so, and yet in that second a man can live a lifetime. He can suffer and die, and who's to say which is the greater reality: the one we know or the one in dreams, between heaven, the sky, the earth - in the Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: An occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge in two forms - as it was dreamed and as it was lived and died. This is the stuff of fantasy, the thread of imagination, the ingredients of The Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Jonathan West, ventriloquist, a master of voice manipulation. A man, late of Ireland, with a talent for putting words into other peoples' mouths. In this case, the other person is a dummy, aptly named Caesar, a small splinter with large ideas, a wooden tyrant with a mind and a voice of his own, who is about to talk Jonathan West - into The Twilight Zone.

Adolf: We sent them into the ovens, but always there was a handful left to point a finger.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] The prostrate form of Mr. David Ellington, scholar, seeker of truth and, regretably, finder of truth. A man who will shortly arise from his exhaustion to confront a problem that has tormented mankind since the beginning of time. A man who knocked on a door seeking sanctuary and found, instead, the outer edges of The Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] The new exhibit became very popular at Marchand's, but of all the figures, none was ever regarded with more dread than that of Martin Lombard Senescu. It was something about the eyes, people said. It's the look that one often gets after taking a quick walk - through the Twilight Zone.

Jesse: We may be stiffs up there, but we're sensitive.

Old: Hypnotism? This is conjure stuff!

[closing narration]
Narrator: The other half - where? The fourth dimension? The fifth? Perhaps. They never found the answer. Despite a battery of research physicists equipped with every device known to man, electronic and otherwise, no result was ever achieved, except perhaps, a little more respect for, and uncertainty about, the mechanisms - of The Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Mr. Somerset Frisby, who might have profited by reading an Aesop fable about a boy who cried wolf. Tonight's tall tale from the timberlands - of the Twilight Zone.

McNulty: Mr. Cooper?
[enters his office where he is frozen, kissing his secretary, backs out]
McNulty: Excuse me.

SS: Listen to me Becker, there is no more war, that's all in the past, there are no more camps. It's ridiculous. It's utterly ridiculous to dwell on these things. You did what you thought best and I functioned as I told.

[first lines]
Bartender: You ready for another?
Fred: I'm fine.
Bartender: You've been fine for an hour. We sell booze here, mister. We don't just rent space.
Fred: Is that a fact?
Bartender: That's a fact, buddy.
Fred: How would you like to take a flying jump at the moon?

The: Here, invader. Eat. EAT. The only reason I can see for our fighting is that your uniform is a different color than mine. Do you understand my language?
[sighs]
The: I suppose, not. Anyway, I repeat... There's no longer a reason for us to fight. There are no longer any armies. Only rags of various colors that were once uniforms.

Floyd: So you're one of the Rayford brothers, huh?
Billy: I know you. You're the singing man, aint ya?
Floyd: Yeah! Yeah, that's me, Floyd Burney! Yeah, I sing a little.
Billy: Hear you the one that's been taking out after Mary Rachel.
Floyd: Mary Rachel?
[acting confused]
Billy: Don't lie. I seen you. Folks heard you sugar talking about taking her to Norfolk.
Floyd: Norfolk? What do I want to take anybody to Norfolk for?

Ethel: Walter, please come back to the apartment. I'll make you potato pancakes. Remember, you always used to love potato pancakes.
Walter: Ethel, *you* are a potato pancake. You're as tasteless as a potato pancake.

Rod: [opening narration] Her name is the S.S. Queen of Glasgow. Her registry: British. Gross tonnage: Five thousand. Age: Indeterminate. At this moment, she's one day out of Liverpool, her destination: New York. Duly recorded on this ship's log is the sailing time, course to destination, weather conditions, temperature, longitude and latitude. But what is never recorded in a log is the fear that washes over a deck like fog and ocean spray. Fear like the throbbing strokes of engine pistons, each like a heartbeat, parceling out every hour into breathless minutes of watching, waiting and dreading. For the year is 1942, and this particular ship has lost its convoy. It travels alone like an aged blind thing groping through the unfriendly dark, stalked by unseen periscopes of steel killers. Yes, the Queen of Glasgow is a frightened ship, and she carries with her a premonition of - death.

James: Nothing's impossible. Some things are less likely than others, that's all.

Mike: Next time, it won't be just a box in a hangar, will it?
Air: No, Mike. Next time, you'll really be alone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: This is the face of terror: Anne Marie Mitchell, forty-three years of age, her desolate existence once more afflicted by the hope of altering her past mistake - a hope which is, unfortunately, doomed to disappointment. For warnings from the future to the past must be taken in the past; today may change tomorrow but once today is gone, tomorrow can only look back in sorrow that the warning was ignored. Said warning as of now stamped 'not accepted' and stored away in the dead file in the recording office of the Twilight Zone.

Rod: [Closing Narration] Witness the aftermath from a year-long war of nerves that ended with two losers. In one corner, Colonel Archie Taylor, who wanted nothing more nor less than peace and quiet at his favorite club. This he wanted in the worst way. This he *got* in the worst way. This is now all he has left. In the other corner, Mr. Jamie Tennyson, who won a bet two ways -- easy and hard -- only to discover, somewhat belatedly, that gambling can be most unproductive... even with loaded dice, marked cards, or -- as in his case -- severed vocal cords. 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.

Adolf: In the past, I have given you suggestions. Now, I give orders!

Fenton: [Taro, intending to go, tries to open the back door of the house, but cannot] Well... it looks like you're not supposed to leave just yet.

[repeated line]
Slot: Franklin!

[closing narration]
Narrator: No moral, no message, no prophetic tract, just a simple statement of fact: for civilization to survive, the human race has to remain civilized. Tonight's very small exercise in logic from the Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Mrs. Gann will be in for a big surprise when she finds this under Jenny's pillow, because Mrs. Gann has more temper than imagination. She'll never dream that this is a picture of Old Ben, as he really looks.
[shows photo of a handsome young man]
Narrator: And it will never occur to her that eventually her niece will grow up to be an honest-to-goodness queen - somewhere in The Twilight Zone.

Feathersmith: Getting it. That was the kick. Getting it, not having it.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] The hand belongs to Mr. Don S. Carter, male member of a honeymoon team on route across the Ohio countryside to New York City. In one moment, they will be subjected to a gift most humans never receive in a lifetime. For one penny, they will be able to look into the future. The time is now, the place is a little diner in Ridgeview, Ohio, and what this young couple doesn't realize is that this town happens to lie on the outskirts of the Twilight Zone.

Vinnie: You can't change what you are and neither can I. We had our chance and missed it, Ed. But I'll tell you one thing that's true... And I know it's true. You did love me as much as a man ever loved a woman. Didn't you?
Ed: Yes, Vinnie. That's true. I did, yes.
Vinnie: And now you love what we were; what we might've become together. So just about this time every year... It would have been our anniversary... You start getting unhappy. You want to go back to 1940 and start all over again. Why do you think you keep hearing "Getting Sentimental Over You" on the radio? That was our song, Ed. And those programs... We used to listen to them together... In the dark. I'd forgotten. When you hear those programs, you're like a young man again with all of your life ahead of you. But it isn't so, Ed. It's all over between us. We missed our chance. We can't go back.

[opening narration]
Narrator: You've seen them. Little towns, tucked away far from the main roads. You've seen them, but have you thought about them? What do the people in these places do? Why do they stay? Philip Redfield never thought about them. If his dog hadn't gone after that cat, he would have driven through Peaceful Valley and put it out of his mind forever. But he can't do that now, because whether he knows it or not, his friend's shortcut has led him right into the capital of the Twilight Zone.

Charles: Maybe, the fountain of youth isn't a fountain at all. Maybe, it's a way of looking at things - a way of thinking.

Rod: [opening narration] Quitting time at the plant. Time for supper now. Time for families. Time for a cool drink on a porch. Time for the quiet rustle of leaf-laden trees that screen out the moon, and underneath it all, behind the eyes of the men, hanging invisible over the summer night, is a horror without words. For this is the stillness before storm. This is the eve of the end.

[opening narration]
Narrator: That's Oliver Crangle, a dealer in petulance and poison. He's rather arbitrarily chosen four o'clock as his personal Gotterdammerung, and we are about to watch the metamorphosis of a twisted fanatic, poisoned by the gangrene of prejudice, to the status of avenging angel, upright and omniscient, dedicated and fearsome. Whatever your clocks say, it's four o'clock - and wherever you are, it happens to be the Twilight Zone.

Rocky: [WS has just spelled out what he thinks of Rhodes's revisions to his script] ... So what have you got against Stanislavsky?
William: *You*, that's what.
[He punches out Rhodes, then faces Julius]
William: And to you, Mr. Moomer, as they say... LOTS OF LUCK!
[He turns away and walks out]

[opening narration]
Narrator: Clown, hobo, ballet dancer, bagpiper, and an Army major - a collection of question marks. Five improbable entities stuck together into a pit of darkness. No logic, no reason, no explanation; just a prolonged nightmare in which fear, loneliness, and the unexplainable walk hand in hand through the shadows. In a moment, we'll start collecting clues as to the whys, the whats, and the wheres. We will not end the nightmare, we'll only explain it - because this is the Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Of course, we all know dolls can't really talk, and they certainly can't commit murder. But to a child caught in the middle of turmoil and conflict, a doll can become many things: friend, defender, guardian. Especially a doll like Talky Tina, who did talk and did commit murder - in the misty region of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] A scared, angry little man who never got a break. Now he has everything he's ever wanted - and he's going to have to live with it for eternity - in The Twilight Zone.

[last lines]
Narrator: [Closing Narration] These are the invaders: the tiny beings from the tiny place called Earth, who would take the giant step across the sky to the question marks that sparkle and beckon from the vastness of the universe only to be imagined. The invaders, who found out that a one-way ticket to the stars beyond has the ultimate price tag, and we have just seen it entered in a ledger that covers all the transactions in the universe - a bill stamped "Paid in Full" and to be found on file - in The Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: The moral of what you've just seen is clear. If you drink, don't drive. And if your wife has had a couple, she shouldn't drive, either. You might both just wake up with a whale of a headache in a deserted village - in The Twilight Zone.

Capt. 'Skipper' Farver: Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain. What I'm about to tell you... what I'm about to tell you is something I can't explain myself. Your crew is as much in the dark as you are. If you look out on the left-hand side of this aircraft, you'll see directly below an area called Lake Success. And those buildings aren't the United Nations. They happen to be... they happen to be the World's Fair. What I'm trying to tell you is that somehow, someway, in some manner, this aircraft has gone back into time and it's 1939. We're going to try to increase our speed and go back through the same sound barrier we've already done twice before. I don't know if we can do it. All I ask of you is that you remain calm... and pray.

Marilyn: And the nicest part of all, Val, I look just like you.

George: The letter you sent me is the most incredible thing I have ever read. Archie we're old friends, I must tell you...
Col. Archie Taylor: My communication to you, Alfred, was not as an old friend, but as my Lawyer. Is the wager I have in mind legal?
George: No wager is legal in this state.
Col. Archie Taylor: Well, is it against the law, then? Is there anything criminal in it?
George: I don't see anything criminal in it, no.
Col. Archie Taylor: Alfred, that is exactly what I wanted to hear from you.

James A. Corry: Have a good trip back. Give my regards to Broadway.

Millicent: It's just that all sorts of queer things have been happening to me, I've been seeing things.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Normally, the old man would be correct: this would be the end of the story. We've had the traditional shoot-out on the street and the badman will soon be dead. But some men of legend and folk tale have been known to continue having their way even after death. The outlaw and killer Pinto Sykes was such a person, and shortly we'll see how he introduces the town, and a man named Conny Miller in particular, to the Twilight Zone.

Christie: [Christie is feeding Tina food and the camera pans to show Erich and Annabelle eating across from each other, on each side of Christie] Be a good girl, Tina, and eat your supper.
Erich: Eat your own supper, Christie.
[Tina is shown with food on her mouth and she opens an eye to Erich, and then closes it]
Erich: [subdued] Oh, I didn't know your doll could wink.
Christie: Tina can't wink, Daddy.
Erich: Really? I thought... never mind. Where'd you buy her?
[drinks from a teacup]
Annabelle: [with a smile] Mason's. Should be a good playmate for Christie.
Erich: Mmmhmm. Lacking a brother or sister; is that what you mean?
[mood and tone changes]
Annabelle: I didn't say that.
Erich: But that's why you bought the doll, isn't it? Sort of a reminder?
[drinks from teacup again]
Annabelle: It hadn't occurred to me, but if that's what you want to think...
[she stands and the doorbell immediately rings and she goes to the door. As Christie is busy with Tina, Annabelle speaks again]
Annabelle: It's Linda.
[Christie immediately turns back]
Annabelle: Are you through with your dinner?
Christie: Yes, Mommy. May I take Tina?
Annabelle: Not outside. You can show her to Linda later.
[as Tina gets up and goes out and Annabelle is busy cleaning, Tina is moving on her own]
Talky: My name is Talky Tina, and I'm beginning to hate you.
[Erich stares at her and wipes his mouth, then slowly goes to sit in Christie's chair and uses a napkin to wipe Tina's mouth]
Erich: [mock kindness] My name is Erich Streator and I'm gonna get rid of you.
Talky: [moving] You wouldn't dare!
Erich: Oh? Wouldn't I?
[takes Tina and sits her in front of him on the table]
Talky: Annabelle would hate you, Christie would hate you, and I would hate you.
[Erich chuckles, takes out a cigarette and Annabelle enters the room]
Erich: [cigarette in his mouth] Just seeing how it works.
[takes out matches and lights one and flicks it at the doll]
Talky: Ow!
[Erich chuckles a bit and lights his cigarette]
Erich: So, you have feelings.
Talky: Doesn't everything?
Erich: Then I can hurt you.
Talky: Not really, but I could hurt *you*.
Erich: [laughs] Threats from a doll.
[Annabelle comes back in]
Annabelle: Who're you talking to?

Robert: [after David leaves] I almost feel sorry for him.
Mr. Henderson: But not quite?
[They both smile]

Sgt. Causarano: What's your pleasure Lieutenant? How many people have to die before you're satisfied?
Lt. Katell: Off hand I'd say all of them. No matter who they are or where they are, they are the enemy they *get it*! First day of the war, last day of the war, they *get it*!

Narrator: [Opening Narration] Month of November, hot chocolate, and a small cameo of a child's face, imperfect only in its solemnity. And these are the improbable ingredients to a human emotion, an emotion, say, like - fear. But in a moment this woman, Helen Foley, will realize fear. She will understand what are the properties of terror. A little girl will lead her by the hand and walk with her into a nightmare.

Grant: Gentlemen, I have a theory. Unfortunately, the only way I can prove it or disprove it is going to put me in considerable jeopardy. Any one of you ever hear of mass suggestion?
Paul: So?
Grant: I think that's what we're dealing with now - a kind of hypnosis. To put it more bluntly or perhaps a little less believably, I don't think this airplane is really here. I think every one of us had a little hypnosis performed on him, a little suggestion. Someone somewhere told us that a DC-3 is inside this hangar and that it landed this morning. That's what they said, so every one of us had pictured in his mind a DC-3 as he knows one. Therefore, one of us sees the seats as blue, another sees them as brown, still another sees them as red. I read one number off the tail. Two other guys read two others. Don't you understand what I'm trying to say? This particular aircraft doesn't exist. It really isn't here at all.

[opening narration]
Narrator: This road is the afterwards of the Civil War. It began at Fort Sumter, South Carolina, and ended at a place called Appomattox. It's littered with the residue of broken battles and shattered dreams.
[a Confederate soldier passing by a plantation house stops and has a conversation with the recently widowed owner sitting on the front porch]
Narrator: [narration continues] In just a moment, you will enter a strange province that knows neither North nor South, a place we call - The Twilight Zone.

Michael: What time is it?
Kanamit: There is no time in space. This is to say there is no chronology that can be calibrated.
Michael: I said what time is it, what time is it on earth? Can you tell me that without an exercise in euclidean geometry? Now, just tell me what time it is on earth.
Kanamit: On earth it would be 12:00 noon.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Portrait of a man who thinks and thereby gets things done. Mr. Jimbo Cobb might be called a prime mover, a talent which has to be seen to be believed. In just a moment, he'll show his friends and you how he keeps both feet on the ground - and his head in The Twilight Zone.

Doris: Remember what that Shaman said when we were drilling in Africa? He said that we were hurting the land, that we were making it bleed, that the land would make us pay.

Rod: [opening narration] Her name is Nan Adams. She's twenty-seven years old. Her occupation: buyer at a New York department store. At present on vacation, driving cross-country to Los Angeles, California from Manhattan.
Rod: [continued narration, subsequent to character dialogue] Minor incident on Highway 11 in Pennsylvania. Perhaps, to be filed away under "accidents you walk away from." But from this moment on, Nan Adams' companion on a trip to California will be terror. Her route: fear. Her destination: quite unknown.

Dan: You monster, you. You dirty little monster. You murderer. You think about me. Go ahead, Anthony. You think bad thoughts about me. And maybe some man in this room, some man with guts, somebody who's so sick to death of living in a place like this, and is willing to take a chance, will sneak up behind you and lay something heavy across your skull, and end this once and for all...
Anthony: You're a bad man! You're a very bad man!
Dan: You think that. Go ahead, Anthony. I'm a very bad man! Keep thinking that! Somebody sneak up behind him! Somebody end this now while he's thinking about me! Won't somebody take a lamp or a bottle or something and END THIS?

[closing narration]
Narrator: 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.

Wilma: Well, what'll it be?
Nathan: What'll it be? What do I always have?
Wilma: I don't know what you always have, mister, I really don't.
Nathan: Try tequila - with a cube of sugar.

Prof. Manion: But some things don't change - ideas, concepts, things like right and wrong.
Joe: I know all about right and wrong. Once, there was a deputy sheriff in Dodge City, tried to beat the difference between them into my back with a wet rope. I know all about right and wrong.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Ancient folk saying: 'You can catch the Devil, but you can't hold him long.' Ask Brother Jerome. Ask David Ellington. They know, and they'll go on knowing to the end of their days and beyond - in the Twilight Zone.

Rod: [opening narration] In this corner of the universe, a prizefighter named Bolie Jackson, one-hundred and eighty-three pounds and an hour and a half away from a comeback at St. Nick's Arena. Mr. Bolie Jackson, who, by the standards of his profession is an aging, over-the-hill relic of what was, and who now sees a reflection of a man who has left too many pieces of his youth in too many stadiums for too many years before too many screaming people. Mr. Bolie Jackson, who might do well to look for some gentle magic in the hard-surfaced glass that stares back at him.

Narrator: [closing narration] Mr. George P. Hanley. Former vocation: jerk. Present vocation: genie. George P. Hanley, a most ordinary man - whom life treated without deference, honor, or success... but a man wise enough to decide on a most extraordinary wish that makes him the contented, permanent master of his own altruistic Twilight Zone.

Jess: All kinds of torment in the world, I reckon.
Billy: What would you know of torment, girl?
Jess: There's a torment comes from buying something and finding out the price is dear.
Billy: What did you buy that cost so dear?
Jess: Something I love.
Billy: Do you still love it, though the price was high?
Jess: Better than life.
Billy: Better than me?
Jess: Ain't nothing I love better than you.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Incident on a dirt road during the month of April, the year 1865. As we've already pointed out, it's a road that won't be found on a map, but it's one of many that lead in and out of the Twilight Zone.

Officer: What was it, doctor?
Man: Black magic? Something from Satan?
Man: Read it.
Doctor: [Reads aloud] "Greetings to the people of Earth. We come as friends and in peace. We bring you this gift. The following chemical formula is a vaccine. It's a vaccine against all forms of cancer."
[sighs]
Doctor: That's all there is; the rest has been burned.
[the onlookers are deeply shocked]
Doctor: So we have not just killed a man, we have killed a dream.

Fenton: I mean... well, women are a dime a dozen. Anybody's been to the orient knows that.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Everybody knows Pamela Morris, the beautiful and eternally young movie star. Or does she have another name, even more famous, an Egyptian name from centuries past? It's best not to be too curious, lest you wind up like Jordan Herrick, a pile of dust and old clothing, discarded in the endless eternity of the Twilight Zone.

Peter: You let me come here. You let me come here; you never sent me away.
Ernst: No, I never did. I never do. That's the weakness you scream about on your street corners. Sentimentality, softness, the weakness that makes a man his brother's keeper. Oh, I must be one of the worst of your criminals, Peter. Sentimental, soft! And very preoccupied with my brother. I should close the door on you. Perhaps this is my sickness. I - I only see the boy, not the man.

Old: That's who we'll have fightin' on our side, the devil!

Commander: [Voice over in suspended animation] My life had been space. It had been missions, projects, and expeditions. There had been no time for intrusions that took the form of a woman's face, a voice, a short month of a man and a woman drawing together, becoming a part of one another, reaching tentatively into that strange and mysterious pond of love and then watching the ripples that came from it. But now I think of these things. Now they come to mind, now in the darkness, in the cold, the solitude, the... stillness, the loneliness. Now there comes a feeling of warmth. Sandy, where are you now, Sandy, across the void? My dear Sandy, through the millions of miles of cold, empty space. Through the vastness of a naked desert of sky and stars, I love you. I love you, Sandy.

Adam: I'll tell you what it's like. You walk out of your cell, pass two gray doors. Seventy-eight steps to the final door, it's painted green. There's a guard that opens the door for you, and you go into a room. It's tan, it's all tan. There's nothing in it except one chair. It's like a chair you used to sit in when you were a kid. It's hard and solid. They strap your arms and legs, then they attach the electrodes. It's funny, they always feel cold to the touch at first. Then they drop the mask. It's musty. It smells like an old sofa. And then you wait, every muscle tense, straining. Any second, any second then you can almost hear it. They pull the switch...

Captain: [last line, upon hearing the revelation that one of the uniformed skeletons in the sunken sub was holding a hammer] ... Let's just save that part of the story for our grandchildren. Who else would believe it...? I figure that's the only thing worse than what war does to men's bodies - what it does to their minds.
[He goes outside and stares into the ocean]
Captain: Rest in peace, Mr. Bell. I figure that's the least of your dues.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Sunnyvale Rest, a dying place for ancient people, who have forgotten the fragile magic of youth. A dying place for those who have forgotten that childhood, maturity, and old age are curiously intertwined and not separate. A dying place for those who have grown too stiff in their thinking - to visit - The Twilight Zone.

Capt. 'Skipper' Farver: [speaking to his crew, while in flight] We're in trouble. I don't know what kind of trouble.

Airline: This is Paul Malloy, our public relations man.
Grant: How much public, and what kind of relations are you poor guys going to have after this one? I got 22 years in this saddle and I've never been licked yet. Oh, some of them take a long time. Couple of tons of metal spread over 50 square miles of countryside. Sometimes, all it is is a misplaced air scoop or maybe a loose bolt in the elevator hinge or... once in a blue moon, a pilot with a psychosis. But it's always something. And that something always shows up.

[opening narration]
Narrator: What you are about to watch is a nightmare. It is not meant to be prophetic, it need not happen, it's the fervent and urgent prayer of all men of good will that it never shall happen. But in this place, in this moment, it does happen. This is the Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: A little girl and a wooden doll. A lethal dummy in the shape of a man. But everybody knows dummies can't talk - unless, of course, they learn their vocabulary in The Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [closing narration] The name is Grady, ten feet tall, a slightly distorted offshoot of a good breed of humans who race horses. Unfortunately for Mr. Grady, he learned too late that you don't measure size with a ruler, you don't figure height with a yardstick, and you never judge a man by how tall he looks in a mirror. The giant is as he does. You can make a pari-mutuel bet on this, win, place, or show, in or out of The Twilight Zone.

Professor: I'll tell her!
Prof. Walter Jameson: She won't believe you. Nobody would. You won't believe it yourself by tomorrow morning.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Mr. James B. W. Bevis, who believes in a magic all his own. The magic of a child's smile, the magic of liking and being liked, the strange and wondrous mysticism that is the simple act of living. Mr. James B. W. Bevis, species of twentieth-century male, who has his own private and special Twilight Zone.

Michael: [narrating] This is the way nightmares begin - or, perhaps, end. Very simple, direct, unadorned. Incredible, and yet so terribly real, that even while they're happening we live with them, and digest them, and assimilate them. And if it's twelve o'clock noon, that's what you preoccupy yourself with. You don't think about twelve o'clock noon on the next day or the day after that. But that's what we should have been thinking about - tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. We were preoccupied with hands on a clock - when we should have been checking off a calendar.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Very little comment here, save for this small aside: that the ties of flesh are deep and strong, that the capacity to love is a vital, rich and all-consuming function of the human animal, and that you can find nobility and sacrifice and love wherever you may seek it out: down the block, in the heart, or in the Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: 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.

Walter: Who are you?
Cadwallader: Cadwallader's my name. At least, it's the name I'm using this month. It has a nice feeling on the tongue. "Cad-wall-ah-der."
Walter: [checks to see if the bedroom window is locked] How'd you get in here?
Cadwallader: I've never been gone. I've been here for some time.

Dr. Bill Stockton: You better get on home and get into your shelter... eh, your basement, and I'd board up the windows if I were you.
Jerry: Bill, we don't have any cellar, remember? The advantages of modern architecture, we have the only modern house on the block. We get everything at your beck and call, everything at your fingertips, even got an electric launderer right off the back room. All the wonders of modern science taken into account except that thing that's heading here right now.

[opening narration]
Narrator: This is Roswell G. Flemington, two hundred and twenty pounds of gristle, lung tissue and sound decibels. He is, as you have perceived, a noisy man; one of a breed who substitutes volume for substance, sound for significance, and shouting to cover up the readily apparent phenomenon that he is nothing more than an overweight and aging perennial Sea Scout whose noise-making is in inverse ratio to his competence and to his character. But soon our would-be admiral of the fleet will embark on another voyage. This one is an uncharted and twisting stream that heads for a distant port called - The Twilight Zone.

Professor A. Daemon: What is it you want?
Roger: Oh, nothing.
Professor A. Daemon: Nothing I don't supply. Something is my specialty. Anything is what you get here.

Miss: No, Mr. Feathersmith, I'm afraid your soul is not yours to negotiate.
Feathersmith: Then what do you charge?
Miss: Cash.

Major: Friends, Romans, Farm Animals! We are now going up to the cave and check your favorite recluse. We're gonna bring him out in the sunshine and get a good look at him. And then we're gonna decide if he's worthwhile keeping alive.

Somerset: Well, I guess you might just as well know now as later. Only accomplishment I got, you fellas evidently overlooked, and well that is I'm the goldarnedest liar that ever hit the pike. Ha! I spin the biggest yarns west of the Rockies! Now, I don't mean exaggeration, I mean lies. L-I-E-S, Lies.

[first lines]
Mary: [mixing him a martini] You really should be working, you know.
Gregory: You're nagging me.
Mary: I'm only thinking of posterity.
Gregory: [tenderly] Think of me, instead.
Mary: [Smiles] Don't I always?
[They look at each other lovingly. Mary takes a sip from the glass]
Gregory: Yes, you do. Dry enough?
Mary: We'll let the master decide.
[offers him the glass]
Gregory: [sips] Perfect. As always.
Mary: [Smiles] Are you describing yourself, Mr. West?
Gregory: Let the mistress decide.
Mary: She's decided.
[sits down beside him; he holds her in his arms]

Rod: [Opening Narration] Martin Sloan, age thirty-six. Occupation: vice-president, ad agency, in charge of media. This is not just a Sunday drive for Martin Sloan. He perhaps doesn't know it at the time - but it's an exodus. Somewhere up the road, he's looking for sanity. And somewhere up the road, he'll find something else.

Mr. Maitland: I've thought a lot about it. Though, I realize that you are what you are and it's not my place to judge you...
Salvadore: Oh look, I don't care what you think about me.
Mr. Maitland: Please, please.
[continues]
Mr. Maitland: I cannot let you ruin her life by marrying her.

Leader: Tall man. Doesn't usually wear his gun. Blond hair.
Al: Who does that describe?
Leader: It describes a man named Al Denton. Supposed to be top gun here. Would that be you?
Al: That'd be me.
Leader: I got a message for you, Denton, comes from Pete Grant.
Al: Well, let's hear the message.
Leader: Pete will be in town tomorrow night at 10:00. He'll meet you over in the saloon.
Al: Look, you tell him there's no call...
[realizes what would happen if he backed off]
Al: Tell Mr. Grant I'll be there tomorrow night. I'll wait for his pleasure.
Leader: That's just what it'll be.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Yes, it could just be. It could just be that Mr. Bartlett Finchley succumbed from a heart attack and a set of delusions. It could just be that he was tormented by an imagination as sharp as his wit and as pointed as his dislikes. But as perceived by those attending, this is one explanation that has left the premises with the deceased. Look for it filed under 'M' for Machines - in The Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: It's been said that science fiction and fantasy are two different things: science fiction, the improbable made possible; fantasy, the impossible made probable. What would you have if you put these two different things together? Well, you'd have an old man named Ben who knows a lot of tricks most people don't know and a little girl named Jenny who loves him - and a journey into the heart of the Twilight Zone.

Mike: [noticing he's wearing similar overalls to a man in a movie poster] Air Force. Air Force. Air Force! I'm Air Force.
[running into the theater]
Mike: Air Force. I'm in the Air Force! I'm in the Air Force! Hey, I'm in the Air Force!

Chancellor: You have no function, Mr. Wordsworth, you're an anachronism, like a ghost from another time.
Romney: I am nothing more than a reminder to you that you cannot destroy truth by burning pages!

[closing narration]
Narrator: Fear, of course, is extremely relative. It depends on who can look down and who must look up. It depends on other vagaries like the time, the mood, the darkness. But it's been said before with great validity that the worst thing there is to fear is fear itself. Tonight's tale of terror and tiny people on The Twilight Zone.

Air: You see, we can feed the stomach with concentrates. We can supply microfilm for reading, recreation - even movies of a sort. We can pump oxygen in and waste material out. But there's one thing we can't simulate that's a very basic need. Man's hunger for companionship. The barrier of loneliness - that's one thing we haven't licked yet.

Rod: [Closing Narration] From William Shakespeare, Richard the Third, a small excerpt. The line reads, 'He has come to open the purple testament of bleeding war.' And for Lieutenant William Fitzgerald, A Company, First Platoon, the testament is closed. Lieutenant Fitzgerald has found the Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Bob and Millie Frazier, average young New Yorkers who attended a party in the country last night, and on the way home, took a detour. Most of us on waking in the morning know exactly where we are. The rooster or the alarm clock brings us out of sleep into the familiar sights, sounds, aromas of home and the comfort of a routine day ahead. Not so with our young friends. This will be a day like none they've ever spent, and they'll spend it - in The Twilight Zone.

The: Somehow I'll get you out of here. But none of us gets out until one of gets out. Now that is a logic you can live with.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Castle, gentle and infinitely patient people, whose lives have been a hope chest with a rusty lock and a lost set of keys. But in just a moment that hope chest will be opened, and an improbable phantom will try to bedeck the drabness of these two people's failure-laden lives with the gold and precious stones of fulfillment. Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Castle, standing on the outskirts and about to enter the Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [opening narration] What you have just looked at takes place three hundred feet underground, beneath the basement of a New York City skyscraper. It's owned and lived in by one Paul Radin. Mr. Radin is rich, eccentric and single-minded. How rich we can already perceive; how eccentric and single-minded we shall see in a moment, because all of you have just entered the Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Just a barrel, a dark depository where are kept the counterfeit, make-believe pieces of plaster and cloth, wrought in a distorted image of human life. But this added, hopeful note: perhaps they are unloved only for the moment. In the arms of children, there can be nothing but love. A clown, a tramp, a bagpipe player, a ballet dancer, and a major. Tonight's cast of players on the odd stage - known as - The Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] A Global jet airliner, en route from London to New York on an uneventful afternoon in the year 1961, but now reported overdue and missing, and by now, searched for on land, sea, and air by anguished human beings, fearful of what they'll find. But you and I know where she is. You and I know what's happened. So if some moment, any moment, you hear the sound of jet engines flying atop the overcast - engines that sound searching and lost - engines that sound desperate - shoot up a flare or do something. That would be Global 33 trying to get home - from The Twilight Zone.

Alien: You see, Mr. Frisby, our assignment here was to secure a representative Earth specie, hopefully, the most brilliant we could find. There seems to be no question that your accomplishments are far and away more extensive that any other human being on Earth.
Somerset: Mine? Frisby's? Now wait a minute, wait a minute. I'm just an old country boy with a big mouth.

Willie: Maybe *you* need glasses.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] This is the face of terror: Anne Marie Henderson, eighteen years of age, her young existence suddenly marred by a savage and wholly unanticipated pursuit by a strange, nightmarish figure of a woman in black, who has appeared as if from nowhere and now, at driving gallop, chases the terrified girl across the countryside, as if she means to ride her down and kill her - and then suddenly and inexplicably stops, to watch in malignant silence as her prey takes flight. Miss Henderson has no idea whatever as to the motive for this pursuit, worse, not the vaguest notion regarding the identity of her pursuer. Soon enough, she will be given the solution to this twofold mystery, but in a manner far beyond her present capacity to understand, a manner enigmatically bizarre in terms of time and space - which is to say, an answer from - The Twilight Zone.

Secretary: [in response to McNulty's story about his magic stopwatch] Why don't you go to the devil and pester him, McNulty? Either that, or get to the point already... Stops *everything*, does it? That's the most amazing tale I've ever heard! Now go hang yourself, will you?

[opening narration]
Narrator: The place is Mexico, just across the Texas border, a mountain village held back in time by its remoteness and suddenly intruded upon by the twentieth century. And this is Pedro, nine years old, a lonely, rootless little boy, who will soon make the acquaintance of a traveler from a distant place. We are at present forty miles from the Rio Grande, but any place and all places can be - the Twilight Zone.

Mr. Death: Think of all the poor souls who go in violent accidents. These are the non-precognition victims. We're not permitted to forewarn them. You, Mr. Bookman, fall into the category of... natural causes.
Lou: 'Natural causes?' Number one, I find you a very devious sort. Number two, I think that you're dishonest. Number three, why don't you say what you mean?
Mr. Death: Mr. Bookman, I've done everything but phone your own undertaker. How much clearer do you want it? If you still don't know who I am, then you're the most dense man I've come up against.
[touches a flower, causing it to wilt, droop and die]

Henry: Bolie?
[yawns]
Henry: I ain't gonna make no more wishes, Bolie. I'm too old for wishes, and there ain't no such thing as magic, is there?
Bolie: I guess not, Henry.
[pauses]
Bolie: Or maybe... maybe there is magic, and maybe there's wishes, too. I guess the trouble is... I guess the trouble is not enough people around to believe. Good night, boy.

Professor: The introduction of smut into this interview will not help your case, young lady, not at all.

Alien: [watching the riot on Maple Street from a hilltop: last lines] Understand the procedure now? Just stop a few of their machines and radios and telephones and lawnmowers. Throw them into darkness for a few hours, and then sit back and watch the pattern.
Alien: And this pattern is always the same?
Alien: With few variations. They pick the most dangerous enemy they can find, and it's themselves. All we need do is sit back and watch.
Alien: Then I take it this place, this Maple Street is not unique.
Alien: By no means. Their world is full of Maple Streets and we'll go from one to the other and let them destroy themselves. One to the other, one to the other, one to the other...

[only lines in episode except for the opening and closing narration]
Astronaut: Central control. Come in, Central Control. Do you read me? Gresham is dead. Repeat, Gresham is dead. The ship's destroyed. Incredible race of giants here. Race of giants. No, Central Control. No counterattack. Repeat, no counterattack. Too much for us. Too powerful. Stay away. Gresham and I, we're finished... finished. Stay away... stay away.

Andy: How do I know you?
Pop: How do you know me? A son should know his father. What kind of game are you playing, Andy?
Andy: I'm your son?
Pop: You were. You were before you ran out. You were before you broke your mother's heart. Before you did dirt to a sweet decent little girl who would've cut off an arm for you. But now you ain't my son. Now you ain't nothin' to me. You're nothin'. I hate your guts. Do you hear me? I hate your guts.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Clocks are made by men, God creates time. No man can prolong his allotted hours, he can only live them to the fullest - in this world or in the Twilight Zone.

Chancellor: [30 seconds before the bomb will go off] Please -- please, let me out. In the name of God, let me out! Let me out, let me out!
Romney: Yes, Chancellor; IN THE NAME OF GOD, I *will* let you out.

General: Not that it will provide vast solace to you, but at 9 o'clock this morning, Cook, we went to war.
Adam: And?
General: Our entire seacoast went. Took twelve minutes. Exactly twelve minutes.
Adam: We... we retaliated?
General: Oh, indeed. With alacrity, and great effectiveness. And we still are. Our world is doing a little wholesale dying now.

Mrs. Henderson: They're going to take the house away from us, Anne.
Anne: Are they really?
Mrs. Henderson: Yes.
Anne: Well, they can have it.
Mrs. Henderson: That's all it means to you?
Anne: That's all.
Mrs. Henderson: The home you were raised in.
Anne: Raised? You mean lowered!

Taro: Banzai!

[opening narration]
Narrator: Miss Elva Keene lives alone on the outskirts of London Flats, a tiny rural community in Maine. Up until now, the pattern of Miss Keene's existence has been that of lying in her bed or sitting in her wheelchair, reading books, listening to a radio, eating, napping, taking medication and - waiting for something different to happen. Miss Keene doesn't know it yet, but her period of waiting has just ended. For something different is about to happen to her, has, in fact already begun to happen via two most unaccountable telephone calls in the middle of a stormy night. Telephone calls routed directly through - The Twilight Zone.

Robert: Martin.
Martin: Yes, Pop.
Robert: You have to leave here. There's no room, there's no place. Do you understand that?
Martin: I see that now, but I don't understand. Why not?
Robert: I guess because we only get one chance. Maybe there's only one summer to every customer. That little boy, the one I know - the one who belongs here - this is *his* summer, just as it was yours once. Don't make him share it.
Martin: Alright.
Robert: Martin, is it so bad where you're from?
Martin: I thought so, Pop. I've been living on a dead run, and I was tired. And one day I knew I had to come back here. I had to come back and get on the merry-go-round, and eat cotton candy, and listen to a band concert. I had to stop and breathe, and close my eyes and smell, and listen.
Robert: I guess we all want that. Maybe when you go back, Martin, you'll find that there are merry-go-rounds and band concerts where you are. Maybe you haven't been looking in the right place. You've been looking behind you, Martin. Try looking ahead.

Sadie: This book and I have never been introduced. We're total strangers.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Introducing, four experts in the questionable art of crime: Mr. Farwell, expert on noxious gases, former professor, with a doctorate in both chemistry and physics; Mr. Erbie, expert in mechanical engineering; Mr. Brooks, expert in the use of firearms and other weaponry; and Mr. De Cruz, 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 utilize the services of a truck placed in cosmoline, loaded with a hot heist cooled off by a century of sleep, and then take a drive into The Twilight Zone.

Deidrich: You seem to put all your eggs in one basket, Mr. Feathersmith.
Feathersmith: I wouldn't let that concern you, Mr. Deidrich. You see, I have an exclusive contract with the hen.

Feathersmith: There's enough oil on that land to fill a thousand barrels every year for the next eight decades, and you sold it to me for *$1 an acre!* I swear, I could almost feel sorry for you...! How's that for a shocker?
Deidrich: At the time, it made *us* jump around a bit also.
Feathersmith: *At the time?*
Deidrich: Four years ago, when the first preliminary soil tests were made, and we were told about the oil.
Feathersmith: FOUR YEARS AGO?
Deidrich: Indeed, there were samples taken of the soil at that time also. And there was never any doubt that the land had oil under it. Six thousand feet under it, Mr. Feathersmith, which means that it might just as well be on the moon.
Feathersmith: On the moon?
Gibbons: [quoting our antihero] Mr. Feathersmith, is there an echo in this room, or would it help if we hired an interpreter?
Deidrich: The oil simply can't be taken out of the ground, Mr. Feathersmith.
Feathersmith: What do you mean, it can't be taken out? You could drill down five miles, if you needed to!
Deidrich: Well, if YOU could, Mr. Feathersmith...
[laughs]
Deidrich: ... Then I'm most happy for you indeed. Because nobody else that we know of could. And, just to be a good sport about it, I suggest you start by inventing some new kind of a drill. You'll need it - to say nothing of MANPOWER... Problem, Mr. Feathersmith?
Feathersmith: Something I ate, I think.
Deidrich: Something you ate... Like CROW, Mr. Feathersmith?
[laughs harder]

Professor: I thought if a man lived forever, he'd grow wiser. But that isn't true, is it?
Prof. Walter Jameson: You just go on living, that's all.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Exit Mr. Luther Dingle, formerly vacuum cleaner salesman, strongest man on Earth, and now mental giant. These latter powers will very likely be eliminated before too long, but Mr. Dingle has an appeal to extraterrestrial notetakers, as well as to frustrated and insolvent bet losers. Offhand, I'd say that he was in for a great deal of extremely odd periods, simply because there are so many inhabited planets who send down observers, and also because, of course, Mr. Dingle lives his life with one foot in his mouth - and the other in The Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: What's known in the parlance of the times as the old switcheroo, from boss to blockhead in a few uneasy lessons. And if you're given to nightclubbing on occasion, check this act. It's called Willy and Jerry, and they generally are booked into some of the clubs along the 'Gray Night Way' - known as The Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Mardi Gras incident, the dramatis personae being four people who came to celebrate. And, in a sense, let themselves go. This they did with a vengeance. They now wear the faces of all that was inside them, and they'll wear them for the rest of their lives. Said lives now to be spent in shadow. Tonight's tale of men, the macabre, and masks - on The Twilight Zone.

Cora: If my mother finds out what you're doing you better conjure up the Army and Navy, you'll need them!

[closing narration]
Narrator: Travelers to unknown regions would be well-advised to take along the family dog. He could just save you from entering the wrong gate. At least, it happened that way once - in a mountainous area of the Twilight Zone.

SS: Was it a prison or something you had here?
Innkeeper: Something of the sort, sir.
SS: [raises his voice] Was it a prison?
Innkeeper: A camp, sir.
SS: How's that?
Innkeeper: A camp, Mr. Schmidt! A - concentration camp!
SS: [smiling] A concentration camp? Really? Now that's odd.
[lights his cigarette]
SS: For the life of me, I can't seem to recall the name of this town.
Innkeeper: Sir?
SS: The name of this town!
[turns to innkeeper]
SS: What is the name of this town?
Innkeeper: Dachau, sir.
[painfully]
Innkeeper: Dachau.
SS: Dachau. Of course. Dachau.

Talky: [winds doll and she moves back and forth] My name is Talky Tina, and I think I could even hate you.
[Erich looks at the doll and then flings her across the room; Tina lands on her back and Erich looks at the doll from where he stands. Tina then opens her eyes]
Talky: My name is Talky Tina, and you'll be sorry.
Annabelle: [Erich looks from the doll to Annabelle, who comes down the stairs and her eyes shift to Tina, obviously thrown on the floor. She backs up a bit, holding onto the stair rail] Why, Erich?
Erich: I don't like what it says.
Annabelle: You didn't have to throw it.
[she picks up the doll and Erich begins to walk over]
Erich: It has quite the vocabulary.
[he takes the doll from Annabelle]
Erich: Here, listen.
[he manipulates the doll to make her speak]
Talky: My name is Talky Tina, and I love you very much.
[Erich stares at the doll]
Erich: Yeah, well, that's not what it said a minute ago.
[he throws the doll back into Annabelle's arms and puts his hands on his hips]
Annabelle: [walks away from Erich, clutching Tina] I don't know how much more of this I can take.
Erich: Exactly what is it you're taking, Annabelle?
[she turns to him]
Annabelle: Your anger toward Christie. I know you're having a difficult time adjusting to her, but I can't let you treat her this way. She's my daughter, Erich. I love her.
Erich: [mockingly] "I love her." But I don't love her. I'm only her stepfather and I'm incapable of loving children because we can't have any of our own.
[face and voice show a small degree of amusement]
Erich: Isn't that what you are saying, Annabelle?
Annabelle: [slowly shaking her head] Oh, no, Erich, believe me, it's not. You could love Christie; I *know* you could. If you'd only give yourself half a chance.
Erich: Good.
[goes to sit down and she follows him]
Erich: I'm glad I'm not cold, cruel ogre that mommy and daughter think I am; I appreciate all the *faith* you have in me!
[looks down from his seated position]
Annabelle: Erich, please give us a chance. Christie and me. I know you got more than you bargained for when you married me. Two for the price of one, wasn't it. But we'll do anything to make you happy - both of us.
Christie: [offscreen] Daddy?
[Erich's eyes shift to Christie and she bounces down the stairs and comes over to him]
Christie: I'm sorry, Daddy, if I made you mad.
Erich: It's alright, Christie.
[he cusps her chin in his hand and rubs it]
Erich: It's all Daddy's fault, okay?
Christie: [smiles] Sure, Daddy.
Annabelle: Here, dear.
[hands Christie the doll, who hugs the doll to her shoulder and turns to go back upstairs with Tina and winds the key to hear her speak]
Talky: My name is Talky Tina and I love you very much.
[Erich turns his head from Christie to look stony-faced into the distance]

[closing narration]
Narrator: According to the Bible, God created the heavens and the Earth. It is man's prerogative and woman's, to create their own particular and private hell. Case in point, Miss Elva Keene, who in every sense has made her own bed and now must lie in it sadder, but wiser by dint of a rather painful lesson in responsibility transmitted from - The Twilight Zone.

Rod: [opening narration] His name is Arch Hammer, he's 36 years old. He's been a salesman, a dispatcher, a truck driver, a con man, a bookie, and a part-time bartender. This is a cheap man, a nickel-and-dime man, with a cheapness that goes past the suit and the shirt; a cheapness of mind, a cheapness of taste, a tawdry little shine on the seat of his conscience, and a dark-room squint at a world whose sunlight has never gotten through to him. But Mr. Hammer has a talent, discovered at a very early age. This much he does have. He can make his face change. He can twitch a muscle, move a jaw, concentrate on the cast of his eyes, and he can change his face. He can change it into anything he wants. Mr. Archie Hammer, jack-of-all-trades, has just checked in at three-eighty a night, with two bags, some newspaper clippings, a most odd talent, and a master plan to destroy some lives.

Ernst: One sips wine, Peter. This is not medicine.
Peter: Well, I'll keep that in mind for next time.
Ernst: For the next time? Just how many next times do you suppose a human being has in the scheme of things?

Rod: [Opening Narration] Street scene: Summer. The present. Man on a sidewalk named Lew Bookman, age sixtyish. Occupation: pitchman. Lew Bookman, a fixture of the summer, a rather minor component to a hot July, a nondescript, commonplace little man whose life is a treadmill built out of sidewalks. And in just a moment, Lew Bookman will have to concern himself with survival - because as of three o'clock this hot July afternoon, he'll be stalked by Mr. Death.

[closing narration]
Narrator: 'To each his own' - so goes another old phrase to which Mr. Woodrow Mulligan would heartily subscribe, for he has learned - definitely the hard way - that there's much wisdom in a third old phrase, which goes as follows: 'Stay in your own backyard.' To which it might be added, 'and, if possible, assist others to stay in theirs' - via, of course, The Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Uniquely American institution known as the neighborhood bar. Reading left to right are Mr. Anthony O'Toole, proprietor, who waters his drinks like geraniums but who stands foursquare for peace and quiet and for booths for ladies. This is Mr. Joseph J. Callahan, an unregistered bookie, whose entire life is any sporting event with two sides and a set of odds. His idea of a meeting at the summit is any dialogue between a catcher and a pitcher with more than one man on base. And this animated citizen is every anonymous bettor who ever dropped rent money on a horse race, a prize fight, or a floating crap game, and who took out his frustrations and his insolvency on any vulnerable fellow barstool companion within arm's and fist's reach. And this is Mr. Luther Dingle, a vacuum cleaner salesman whose volume of business is roughly that of a valet at a hobo convention. He's a consummate failure in almost everything but is a good listener and has a prominent jaw.
Narrator: [continued narration, subsequent to extensive character dialogue] And these two unseen gentlemen are visitors from outer space. They are about to alter the destiny of Luther Dingle by leaving him a legacy, the kind you can't hardly find no more. In just a moment, a sad-faced perennial punching bag, who missed even the caboose of life's gravy train, will take a short constitutional into that most unpredicable region that we refer to as The Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] Each man measures his time; some with hope, some with joy, some with fear. But Sam Forstmann measures his allotted time with a grandfather's clock, a unique mechanism whose pendulum swings between life and death, a very special clock that keeps a special kind of time - in the Twilight Zone.

Alfred: Captain Lutze, if you can still reason, if there's still any portion of your mind that can still function, take this thought with you: This is not hatred, this is retribution. This is not revenge, this is justice. But this is only the beginning, captain. Only the beginning. Your final judgment... will come from God.

Charlie: [after inadvertantly shooting who turned out to be a neighbor and presumed to be the invader] No! No, it's nothing of the sort! I didn't blow the lights out; I swear I didn't! Someone's pulling a gag or something!
Steve: [grabs Charlie by the shirt] A gag? A *gag*? Charlie, there's a man lying dead in the street, and you killed him; does that look like a gag to you?
[Charlie pushes Steve away and runs to his house; a stone is hurled at his head, creating a bleeding gash]
Charlie: Look! Look, I swear it isn't me! I swear it isn't! But I know who it is! I know who the monster is! I know who it is that doesn't belong among us! I swear I know who it is!
Don: Alright, Charlie, let's hear it!
Charlie: It's... it's...
Les: What are you waiting for!
Don: Well, come on Charlie, come on!
Man: Who is it, Charlie? Tell us!
Charlie: It's the kid! It's Tommy! He's the one!

Rod: [Middle narration - While Bemis wanders through the ruins of the destroyed city] Seconds, minutes, hours, they crawl by on hands and knees for Mr. Henry Bemis, who looks for a spark in the ashes of a dead world. A telephone connected to nothingness, a neighborhood bar, a movie, a baseball diamond, a hardware store, the mailbox that was once his house and now is rubble; they lie at his feet as battered monuments to what was but is no more.
Henry: Helen! Helen! Where are you!
Rod: Mr. Henry Bemis, on an eight hour tour of a graveyard.

Romney: Chancellor.
Chancellor: [turning back from the door] Make it brief, Mr. Wordsworth.
Romney: You have plenty of time. You're not going anywhere.
Chancellor: How's that?
Romney: I'm afraid I haven't been very fair with you. I invited you here for a very special reason. Would you like to know the method that I've chosen for my... liquidation? Well, in a very short while -- here in this room -- a bomb is going off.
Chancellor: How thoughtful, Mr. Wordsworth, a relatively quick and painless death.
Romney: Yes, isn't it? However, knowing that you'll be blown to smithereens in less than 60 minutes... That isn't the happiest thought in the world, is it? Or is it, now?
Chancellor: That depends on the individual, Mr. Wordsworth.
Romney: Indeed it does.
Chancellor: [turns to the door, finds it locked] What kind of idiocy is this, Mr. Wordsworth? You've locked the door!
Romney: Oh, yes. Yes, I have indeed locked the door.
[turns to face the camera]
Romney: Now, question: How does a man react to the knowledge that he'll be blown sky-high within a half-hour? Answer: As you pointed out yourself, *that depends on the individual*.

[opening narration]
Narrator: The time is the space age, the place is a barren landscape of a rock-walled canyon that lies millions of miles from the planet Earth. The cast of characters? You've met them: William Fletcher, commander of the spaceship; his co-pilot, Peter Craig. The other characters who inhabit this place you may never see, but they're there, as these two gentlemen will soon find out. Because they're about to partake in a little exploration into that gray, shaded area in space and time that's known as The Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: A case of mistaken identity or a nightmare turned inside out? A simple loss of memory or the end of the world? David Gurney may never find the answer, but you can be sure he's looking for it - in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Now there're questions that come to mind. Where is this place, and when is it? What kind of world where ugliness is the norm and beauty the deviation from that norm? You want an answer? The answer is, it doesn't make any difference. Because the old saying happens to be true. Beauty *is* in the eye of the beholder, in this year or a hundred years hence. On this planet or wherever there is human life, perhaps out amongst the stars. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Lesson to be learned - in The Twilight Zone.

Edward: [stares at picture on the wall] Did you ever look at this picture, I mean really look at it?
Dr. Rathmann: I think so, why?
Edward: Has it ever moved?
Dr. Rathmann: No, not to my knowledge, anyway.
Edward: I can make it move.
Dr. Rathmann: Can you?
Edward: Yes. But not really. When I was a kid, we had a picture like this in our house. Not the same thing, exactly, but pretty close. A boat. My mother used to tell me to look at it. She said if I looked at it long enough, it would move. All I had to do was keep looking at it. I didn't believe her, but the idea fascinated me. One night I spent a whole hour just staring at that silly boat.
Dr. Rathmann: And did it move?
Edward: [slow response] Yes.
Dr. Rathmann: Now you understand there's nothing strange about that, it was an optical illusion.
Edward: Yeah, I know. Except that after awhile I couldn't control it. Every time I looked at that boat, the sails would fill and it would begin to dip. I just couldn't stop it.
Dr. Rathmann: Imagination is strong in a growing boy.
Edward: Yeah, I realize that. I realized it even then. But the point is I got just as scared as if it were really happening. The mind is everything. If you think you've got a pain in your arm and there's no physical reason for it, it hurts just the same, doesn't it?
Dr. Rathmann: Granted.

Charles: Well, maybe you gotta be a little crazy to make the magic work!

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Mr. Roger Shackelforth, who has discovered at this late date that love can be as sticky as a vat of molasses, as unpalatable as a hunk of spoiled yeast, and as all-consuming as a six-alarm fire in a bamboo and canvas tent. Case history of a lover boy, who should never have entered The Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: There is an answer to the doctor's question. All the Dachaus must remain standing. The Dachaus, the Belsens, the Buckenwalds, the Auschwitzes - all of them. They must remain standing because they are a monument to a moment in time when some men decided to turn the Earth into a graveyard. Into it they shoveled all of their reason, their logic, their knowledge, but worse of all, their conscience. And the moment we forget this, the moment we cease to be haunted by its remembrance, then we become the gravediggers. Something to dwell on and to remember, not only in The Twilight Zone but wherever men walk God's Earth.

General: Probe 7, this is Base. This is our last contact, Cook. Just a few minutes ago we got ours. 500% increase in the radioactivity around us. From what we can gather, the enemy had it just as bad as we did. We wiped them out. They wiped us out. Just one last forlorn wish for you, Son. Whoever you'll meet there, however you'll meet them, I hope it can come without fear. I hope it can come without anger. I hope your new world will be different. I hope you'll find no words such as Hate. I hope there'll be...

[closing narration]
Narrator: All persons attempting to conceal criminal acts involving their cars are hereby warned: check first to see that underneath that chrome there does not lie a conscience, especially if you're driving along a rain-soaked highway in the Twilight Zone.

Commissar: [prerecorded message] Greetings, Major Kuchenko. First of all, to clear up one point, I must be evident to you. I've been imbibing this particular drug for many years and have reached a point where I can drink it by the gallon and be quite unaffected. As you've probably perceived, I'm rather a gamesman when it comes to killing. I have my own rules and ethics that apply. And, Major Kuchenko... and listen to the following quite carefully. This is the game, and these are the rules: you have been asleep for roughly three hours. During that time, I have placed a booby trap in this room. It is not visible, but it attached to a very common object. If you trigger this object, you will immediately be blown up. Now, the following proposition: if during the next three hours you are able to find this booby trap and cut the wire, you'll be permitted to leave the room alive. This is a guarantee. But the following conditions are of essence, Major. You must actively search for this booby trap and you must find it and render it unusable. Attempt to turn out the lights, and you will be shot at once. The moment you stop and active search, you will be shot. Or, if you are unable to find the trap at the end of three hours or attempt to leave the room during that time, I'm afraid the same conditions apply. You will receive a bullet in the head. So, there you have it, Major. As a fellow expert in the art of booby traps, I think you will admit, Major, that this situation has its own special imaginative... quality.
[laughs sadistically and manically]

General: Stansfield, you're really quite an incredible man. It may be the one distinction in my entire life that I knew you. That I knew a man who put such a premium on love. Truly, truly quite a distinction, Stansfield.

Deputy: You seen the light, Reverend. You really seen the light.
Reverend: Have you?
Reverend: [turns to crowd] Have any of you?
Reverend: In all this darkness, is there anybody who can make out the truth? He hated, and he killed, and now he dies. And you hated, you killed, and now there's not one of you... Not one of you who isn't doomed. Do you know why it's dark? Do you know why it is night all around us? Do you know what the blackness is? It's the hate he felt, the hate you felt, the hate all of us feel, and there's too much of it. There's just too much. And so we had to vomit it out. And now it's coming up all around us and choking us. So much hate, so much miserable hate.

Ellwyn: [picking flowers in a field] Hello, Jess.
Jess: You're a long way from home, Elly Glover. Lots of wildflowers around here. Saw a patch of *old maid's* fern up on the mountain.
Ellwyn: I notice a lot of *vixen* wort around here, myself.

Ms. Rogers: Mr. Finchley, in this conspiracy you speak of, this mortal combat between you and the appliances, I hope you lose.

Romney: I'm a human being, I exist. And if I speak one thought aloud that thought lives, even after I'm shovelled into my grave.

Dan: [notices Denton holding a gun] Wait a minute, Denton. Hey, Gunner! Hey! Where did you get that artillery?
Al: I found it... I found it right over there in the street.
Dan: Is that a fact? Heh! Bet it's a long time since you used one of those, isn't it, rummy?
Al: Yeah, a long time.
Dan: Well, maybe you could use it now. Yeah. Maybe you could even outdraw me.
Al: No, I wouldn't know how to use it anymore.
Dan: Well, let's see you try. Come on. You and me will draw.
Liz: All right. All right. Dan, cut it out. It's not funny anymore.
Dan: Go on. Get away, Liz. The gunner and me, we're gonna have a showdown here. Come on, Gunner. Let's lift it up...
Liz: Oh, Dan, stop it!
Charlie: Come on, Dan. Liz is right.
Dan: GO ON BACK TO THE BAR, CHARLIE! Can't you see we got private business here?
Charlie: Listen, Dan...
[Dan kicks the bar door, sending Charlie tumbling backward]
Dan: Come on. Come on out here. Come on, rummy. Come on!
[Denton walks a few steps forward]
Dan: I'm gonna give you a break, rummy. I'm gonna do it left-handed.
Al: Miss Smith, tell him. Please tell him. Please. Miss Smith, please tell him...
[after waving his gun in his hand, he shoots Hotaling in the left wrist]
Al: Miss Smith, please tell him it was an accident. I don't want any trouble. Mr. Hotaling...
Charlie: That was shooting, Al.
Al: Mr. Hotaling, listen...
Charlie: Come in and get a drink. It's on the house.
[Charlie escorts Denton into the bar]
Charlie: Did you get your eye back, Al? You been practicing or something? We ain't seen shooting like that since I don't know when. Against Hotaling, too.
Al: It isn't even mine.
Charlie: Drinks on the house!
Dan: HEY, RUMMY! Face me, Denton!
Al: [the bar patrons scatter] It was an accident, Mr. Hotaling.
Dan: I'm gonna get this right in your stomach!
Charlie: Dan, give him a break.
Al: I didn't mean to... I didn't even mean to... I didn't even mean to...
[as he's waving his gun, Denton fires again. This time, it causes a lamp to fall on Hotaling's gun]

Miss: ...Of course it didn't work. It could *never* work for *you*, Mr. Feathersmith; shall I tell you why? Because you are a wheeler and a dealer. A financier and a pusher. A brain, a manipulator, a raider. Because you are a taker instead of a builder. A conniver instead of a designer. An exploiter instead of an inventor. A user instead of a bringer.

Dr. Raymond Gordon: I wonder if she has any idea what she's done, even one slight, little suspicion. But I promise you, that if you don't survive or if you're damaged in any way, I'm gonna take it out of her skin, piece by piece. She's gonna donate a pint of blood for every pint that she's bled out of you. That's not a medical hypothesis, that's a promise.

[closing narration]
Narrator: 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, and family and party, heading west, after a brief detour to The Twilight Zone.

[first lines]
Innkeeper: Yes, sir?
SS: I've just arrived in town. Do you have accommodations here?
Innkeeper: I can give you a lovely front room overlooking the square. Would you care to see it?
SS: I'm sure it will be satisfactory.
[signs in; the innkeeper looks at his face with a frightened look, he looks up]
SS: Yes? Anything wrong?
Innkeeper: No, sir.
[looks at what Lutze signed]
Innkeeper: Mr. Schmidt.
SS: That's what I've written.
Innkeeper: Of course, sir.
SS: Of course, what?
Innkeeper: [nervously] I just meant, uh - I just wondered - it's just that...
SS: What? You just wondered what?
Innkeeper: It's just that - you remind me of someone.
SS: Oh?
Innkeeper: During the war.
SS: Go on.
Innkeeper: There were - there were SS stationed here. They used to come to the inn very often.
SS: I spent the war years on the Russian Front. The panzer division.
Innkeeper: Of course, sir.

Alfred: You ask too much, Captain Lutze. Far too much. Why not ask the Earth to stop from revolving on its axis? Don't ask for the impossible, Captain Lutze. Do not ask forgiveness from those whom you have destroyed to a point past forgiveness. But time is short, Captain. We have something to accomplish here today.

Mike: [grins thoughtfully, stares up toward the moon, and then quietly] Hey, don't go away up there. Next time it won't be a dream or a nightmare. Next time it'll be for real. So don't go away... We'll be up there in a little while.

Henry: Mr Micawber, isn't that a wonderful name?

Engineer: [he and the conductor are standing over Wiliams' dead body in the snow] Just jumped off the train, did he?
1960: [nodding] Shouted something about Willoughby, then ran out to the platform, and that was the last I saw him. Doctor says he must've died instantly. They're gonna take him into town for an autopsy. The funeral parlor there sent the ambulance.
[two funeral parlor men load Williams' body onto a stretcher]
Engineer: Poor fella.
[as the funeral parlor men load the stretcher into the hearse,: Willoughby and Son]

Grant: Did you notice anything abnormal?
Robbins: No, she came in right on the button. She followed my signal up the ramp. She stopped right on the mark where I told her to. She cut her engines when I gave her the signal.

Old: You see, Jenny, my real shape, I mean, the way I really look...
Jenny: Isn't this the way you really look?
Old: No.
Jenny: Have I ever seen you the way you really look?
Old: No.
Jenny: [smiling] Gee, I bet you're icky!
Old: [with mild affront] There are those who found me quite attractive.

Romney: No man is obsolete!

[the three astronauts approach a house and see a man on the porch that is reading a newspaper, presumably frozen, like everyone else they've seen]
Peter: [to the man sitting on the porch, sarcastically] You don't mind if we have a little look around do you, sir?
Wickwire: Not at all
[the three astronauts look at Wickwire, startled that he spoke and moved, unlike the other people they've already seen]
Wickwire: You're most welcome. My name's Wickwire, Jeremy Wickwire.
[Wickwire notices the shock on the astronauts' faces]
Wickwire: Oh, come, gentlemen. There's nothing to be afraid of. Truly there isn't.
Peter: But... y-you're real.
Wickwire: Well, of course, I am. Isn't everybody?
Peter: I used to think so.
Wickwire: Oh! You mean...
[laughs]
Wickwire: Do come inside. Come on. Won't you? Come on. Come inside. There's nothing to be afraid of, I assure you.

[closing narration]
Narrator: In a way, it can be said that Walter Ryder succeeded in his life's ambition, even though the man he created was, after all, himself. There may be easier ways to self-improvement, but sometimes it happens that the shortest distance between to points is a crooked line - through the Twilight Zone.

Laura: [Laura finds Horace lying on the street, his face cut up] Horace, I'm here. It's all right, Horace. I'm here.
Horace: Laura?
Laura: Yes. I'm here. It's all right.
Horace: Laura... don't ask me anything.
Laura: I won't.
Horace: 'Cause I could never... Just don't.

Marty: ...Jerry, you've known him longer than any of us. Tell him to pick out one family. We'll draw lots, or -- or something.
Frank: *One family*. Meaning *yours*, huh, Marty?
Marty: Why not? I've got a 3-month-old baby!
Mrs. Henderson: What's that got to do with anything? Is your baby any more precious than one of my kids?
Marty: I never said that! Look, if you're going to argue about who deserves to live and who doesn't...
Frank: You shut your mouth, Weiss...! That's how it is when the foreigners come over here: pushy and grabby semi-Americans, crowding us out of our own country! Tainting our *bloodlines*!
Marty: Why, you garbage-spitting...!
[He and Frank attack each other, but Jerry breaks them up]
Jerry: Keep that up, and we won't even need a bomb; we can slaughter each other!

William: [after knocking out Rocky Rhodes] Blow, blow thou winter wind. Thou art not so unkind as man's ingratitude.
[Trumpets sound]
William: . That's from As You Like It, Act 2, Scene 7
[by Amiens]

Sheriff: It isn't a carnival, Rogers. It's a hanging.
Rogers: You mean the kids? They ain't never seen a hanging. I figured it was about time.
Sheriff: Why?
Rogers: Why not? They'll learn a lesson. They'll see what happens to drunks that kill kids.
Sheriff: I guess that's pretty vital. How do you teach 'em pain, Rogers? Shoot one of them in the arm?

[closing narration]
Narrator: Ramos Clemente, a would-be god in dungarees, strangled by an illusion, that will-o'-the-wisp mirage that dangles from the sky in front of the eyes of all ambitious men, all tyrants - and any resemblance to tyrants living or dead is hardly coincidental, whether it be here or in the Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: From Khalil Gibran's The Prophet: 'Love gives not but itself and takes not from itself, love possesses not nor would it be possessed, for love is sufficient unto love.' Not a lesson, just a reminder, from all the sentimentalists - in The Twilight Zone.

Rod: [Opening Narration] Picture of a woman looking at a picture. Movie great of another time, once-brilliant star in a firmament no longer a part of the sky, eclipsed by the movement of earth and time. Barbara Jean Trenton, whose world is a projection room, whose dreams are made out of celluloid. Barbara Jean Trenton, struck down by hit-and-run years and lying on the unhappy pavement, trying desperately to get the license number of fleeting fame.

Granny: [Poem sung throughout episode and Closing Narration] Fair was Elly Glover, / Dark was Jess-Belle, / Both they loved the same man, / And both they loved him well.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Obscure metaphysical explanation to cover a phenomenon, reasons dredged out of the shadows to explain away that which cannot be explained. Call it parallel planes or just insanity. Whatever it is, you find it in the Twilight Zone.

Mr. Pip: [spontaneously appearing behind Rocky] Yes, Mr. Valentine, what can I do for you?
Henry: [in a fit] Will you stop creeping around?
Mr. Pip: Anything you say, sir.
Henry: "Anything I say, anything I say." Knock it off, will you!
Mr. Pip: Why? Is something wrong?
Henry: No, no, nothing's wrong; everything is just peachy! Look, I've been in this dump for a month and I can't stand it anymore!
Mr. Pip: But I don't understand.
Henry: Alright, I'll spell it out for you, Fats. I'm bored! *Bored*! I mean, there's no excitement around here, no kicks!
Mr. Pip: Yeah, but the gambling, I thought you enjoyed that!
Henry: I do! But when you win *every* time, that ain't gambling, that's charity!

Professor A. Daemon: You're ambitious, is that it? You want success, money and mileage, the world at your feet.
Roger: No, that's not it at all.
Professor A. Daemon: Power! You want power.
Roger: No, you don't understand. All I want is Leila.
Professor A. Daemon: ...Leila?
Roger: Yeah. If I have Leila, I can do all the rest myself.
Professor A. Daemon: ...Leila. I might have known.
[the Professor begins to talk to himself]
Professor A. Daemon: All he wants is Leila. I offer him practically anything, and all he wants is Leila.

Marsha: [to the Saleswoman] I mean, I don't want to make a big thing out of this, but what kind of a place is this?

Narrator: [Opening Narration] This is Africa, 1943. War spits out its violence overhead, and the sandy graveyard swallows it up. Her name is King Nine, B-25, medium bomber, Twelfth Air Force. On a hot, still morning, she took off from Tunisia to bomb the southern tip of Italy. An errant piece of flak tore a hole in the wing tank and, like a wounded bird, this is where she landed, not to return on this day, or any other day.

General: I'll try to make this as brief as possible. Commander Stansfield experienced a communications malfunction. It probably occurred within the first 12 hours of his departure. There was only sporadic contact made during the entire flight both there and back.
Sandra: He reached the other solar system?
General: Yes, he reached it. He landed, he took off, he returned. He found no life. But we found that 20 years ago. That's one of the ironies of progress, Miss Horn. Could have saved the trip. Could have saved him his anguish.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Witness a theoretical argument, Washington, D.C., the present. Four intelligent men talking about an improbable thing like going back in time. A friendly debate revolving around a simple issue: could a human being change what has happened before? Interesting and theoretical, because who ever heard of a man going back in time? Before tonight, that is, because this is - The Twilight Zone.

Floyd: Honey, anything can be bought. It's a buyer's market, with a price tag on everything. All you got to know is just how to find the tag.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Let this be the postscript - should you be worn out by the rigors of competing in a very competive world, if you're distraught from having to share your existence with the noises and neuroses of the twentieth century, if you crave serenity but want it full time and with no strings attached, get yourself a workroom in the basement and then drop a note to Dr. and Mrs. William Loren. They're a childless couple who made comfort a life's work and maybe there are a few do-it-yourself pamphlets still available - in the Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Three strangers arrive in a small town, three men in black leather jackets in an empty rented house. We'll call them Steve, Scott and Fred, but their names are not important; their mission is, as three men on motorcycles lead us into The Twilight Zone.

[Don has been obsessing over the devil-headed fortune telling machine]
Pat: Don, it's just a napkin holder in a little cafe in Ridgeview, Ohio.

[Opening narration - season 4 & 5]
Narrator: You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension - a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into the Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] It may be said with a degree of assurance that not everything that meets the eye is as it appears. Case in point: the scene you're watching. This is not a hospital, not a morgue, not a mausoleum, not an undertaker's parlor of the future. What it is is the belly of a spaceship. It is en route to another planetary system an incredible distance from the Earth. This is the crux of our story, a flight into space. It is also the story of the things that might happen to human beings who take a step beyond, unable to anticipate everything that might await them out there.
[narration continues subsequent to character dialogue]
Narrator: Commander Douglas Stansfield, astronaut, a man about to embark on one of history's longest journeys - forty years out into endless space and hopefully back again. This is the beginning, the first step towards man's longest leap into the unknown. Science has solved the mechanical details, and now it's up to one human being to breathe life into blueprints and computers, to prove once and for all that man can live half a lifetime in the total void of outer space, forty years alone in the unknown. This is Earth. Ahead lies a planetary system. The vast region in between is the Twilight Zone.

[first lines]
Grady: [answers the phone] Yeah. This is Grady. Who? What paper? Oh yeah, yeah. Yeah, so you're the creep that... I said creep! Yeah, I know who you are! I know who you are! Sure, I read your column. Every time I read it, it makes me sick, I wanna use a stomach pump. Don't try and nuzzle up to me with that Mr. Grady stuff. Three years ago you stuck in the shiv! Listen to me, I had nothing to do with horse doping. NOTHING, you understand that?
[conversation continues]
Grady: Ah, oh sure, a couple of taps on the typewriter and I get a 60-day suspension!
Grady: [listens] Yeah, go ahead, you could talk pretty safe now, you're 50 blocks away. If you were here in this room now, I'd scrape you off the wall and put you in a cup. How does that grab you? This is a statement to the press! Grady to the press, you fink, ya hyenas down there! Listen, and don't forget to spell the name correct! Grady! G-R-A-D-Y!

[opening narration]
Narrator: Missing: one frightened little girl. Name: Bettina Miller. Description: six years of age, average height and build, light brown hair, quite pretty. Last seen being tucked in bed by her mother a few hours ago. Last heard - "Ay, there's the rub", as Hamlet put it. For Bettina Miller can be heard quite clearly, despite the rather curious fact that she can't be seen, at all. Present location? Let's say for the moment - in The Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Portrait of a losing side, proof positive that you can't outpunch machinery. Proof also of something else: that no matter what the future brings, man's capacity to rise to the occasion will remain unaltered. His potential for tenacity and optimism continues, as always, to outfight, outpoint, and outlive any and all changes made by his society, for which three cheers and a unanimous decision rendered from the Twilight Zone.

Peter: Look, why don't you understand? You're like a father. You're the only thing in the world that I've ever loved. What have I ever had to love? What? A drunken father who used to slam me against the wall? An old lady who had no marbles in her head? She didn't even recognize me half the time. That's why I used to come here, because... because you were gentle with me, and you'd talk to me, and you fed me, and you took care of me. Ernst... Ernst, you're my father.
Ernst: [shuts his eyes] That's the boy again speaking. A little boy with so much fear in him.

Valerie: I've been thinking about what you said. I mean about what your father said. Well, I don't see why you're so concerned about him. He's dead. I mean, surely you've had other fathers. My mother's been married eleven times, and personally, I've liked the stepfathers better anyway.
Marilyn: Valerie, please don't.
Valerie: Look, I know you've had nine fathers since the first one. Everybody marries everybody these days.
Marilyn: Valerie, stop.
Valerie: I just don't see how anybody can stay married to the same husband for a hundred years. And besides, I've heard that your father was pretty dull.
Marilyn: Valerie, stop it! Stop talking about my father! Can't any of you understand? I loved him. I cared about him. He was good, and he was kind, and he cared about me, not what I wore, not the way I looked, but what I thought, what I felt. And what's more important, he cared about himself and his dignity as a human being. Valerie, he didn't die in the Ganymede Incident. My father killed himself. Because when they took away his identity, he had no reason to go on living.
Valerie: [shocked] I just don't understand you, Marilyn.
Marilyn: Valerie... Can't you feel *anything*?
Valerie: Well, of course, silly. I feel - I feel good. I always feel good. Life is pretty, life is fun. I am all, and all is one.
Marilyn: [half-laughing, half-crying] You can't understand, can you?
Valerie: What?
Marilyn: [sobbing] They can't understand! They can't understand! They can't understand!

Narrator: [Opening Narration] A hotel suite that, in this instance, serves as a den of crime, the aftermath of a rather minor event to be noted on a police blotter, an insurance claim, perhaps a three-inch box on page twelve of the evening paper. Small addenda to be added to the list of the loot: a camera, a most unimposing addition to the flotsam and jetsam that it came with, hardly worth mentioning really, because cameras are cameras, some expensive, some purchasable at five-and-dime stores. But this camera, this one's unusual because in just a moment we'll watch it inject itself into the destinies of three people. It happens to be a fact that the pictures that it takes can only be developed in The Twilight Zone.

Mary: You can't ever see me again. I'm bespoke.
Floyd: Bespoke? What is that supposed to mean, bespoke? You're bespoke, I'm Floyd Burney. So what?

Rod: [middle narration] Now you make tracks, Mr. Correy. You move out and up like some kind of ghostly Billy club was tapping at your ankle and telling you that it was later than you think. You scrabble up rock hills and feel hot sand underneath your feet and, every now and then, take a look over your shoulder at a giant sun suspended in a dead and motionless sky like an unblinking eye that probes at the back of your head in a prolonged accusation.
[pause]
Rod: Mr. Correy, last remaining member of a doomed crew, keep moving. Make tracks Mr. Correy. Push up and push out, because if you stop... if you stop, maybe sanity will get you by the throat. Maybe realization will pry open your mind and the horror that you left down in the sand will seep in. Yeah, Mr. Correy, yeah, you better keep moving. That's the order of the moment: keep moving.

[closing narration]
Narrator: The evolution of the so-called 'adult' western, and the metamorphosis of one Rance McGrew, formerly phony-baloney, now upright citizen with a preoccupation with all things involving tradition, truth, and cowpoke predecessors. It's the way the cookie crumbles and the six-gun shoots - in The Twilight Zone.

Chancellor: I'm beginning to understand, Wordsworth. Shoe on the other foot -- that's the idea? It's one thing for yourself to cringe and plead; but what a choice opportunity to show a member of the State doing likewise. But you're insane if you think they'll let me stay here.
Romney: *They*? I ask clarification of the term THEY. Ah, you mean the State! Oh, they'll sit on their hands for a while. They wouldn't want to miss this scene. Besides, the act of rescue would be very demeaning to them: having to break in here, in order to snatch their highest-ranking official out of the soup, as it were. No, they won't help you.
Chancellor: I misjudged you, Wordsworth.
Romney: You underestimated me. You wanted the whole country to see how a librarian dies. Well, let them see how the ruler of the State dies as well.

[closing narration]
Narrator: A word to the wise now to any and all who might suddenly feel the presence of a cigar-smoking helpmate who takes bankbooks out of thin air. If you're suddenly aware of any such celestial aids, it means that you're under the beneficent care of one Harmon Cavender, guardian angel. And this message from the Twilight Zone: lotsa luck!

Clark: What appeals to me? Well, uh, how about a nice handsome perpetual motion machine?

Narrator: [Closing Narration] This is November 1880, the aftermath of a necktie party. The victim's name - Paul Johnson, a minor-league criminal and the taker of another human life. No comment on his death save this: justice can span years. Retribution is not subject to a calendar. Tonight's case in point in The Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [opening narration] Portrait of a man at work, the only work he's ever done, the only work he knows. His name is Henry Francis Valentine, but he calls himself "Rocky", because that's the way his life has been - rocky and perilous and uphill at a dead run all the way. He's tired now, tired of running or wanting, of waiting for the breaks that come to others but never to him, never to Rocky Valentine. A scared, angry little man. He thinks it's all over now but he's wrong. For Rocky Valentine, it's just the beginning.

Peter: [Wickwire has poisoned their drinks] I told you not to trust him! I TOLD YOU!
Meyers: We meant you no harm.
Wickwire: I realize that. And I'm sorry, truly, I am.
Captain: The antidote! Give us the antidote.
Wickwire: There is no antidote, captain. Even now, the eternifying fluid in coursing through your veins. But... it won't be painful, I assure you.
Meyers: But why? Why us?
Wickwire: Because you are here, and you are men. And while there are men, there can be no peace.

Rod: [Opening Narration] What you're looking at is a ghost, once alive but now deceased. Once upon a time, it was a baseball stadium that housed a major league ball club known as the Hoboken Zephyrs. Now it houses nothing but memories and a wind that stirs in the high grass of what was once an outfield, a wind that sometimes bears a faint, ghostly resemblance to the roar of a crowd that once sat here. We're back in time now, when the Hoboken Zephyrs were still a part of the National League, and this mausoleum of memories was an honest-to-Pete stadium. But since this is strictly a story of make believe, it has to start this way: once upon a time, in Hoboken, New Jersey, it was tryout day. And though he's not yet on the field, you're about to meet a most unusal fella, a left-handed pitcher named Casey.

Julius: I got me an idea Will. You don't mind if I call you Will, do you?
William: What's in a name? That which we call a rose. By any other name would smell as sweet;
[Trumpets sound, also from Romeo & Juliet Act 2, Scene 2, by Juliet, but not mentioned by Shakespeare]

[opening narration]
Narrator: There was a village, built of crumbling clay and rotting wood, and it squatted ugly under a broiling sun like a sick and mangy animal wanting to die. This village had a virus shared by its people. It was the germ of squalor, of hopelessness, of a loss of faith. For the faithless, the hopeless, the misery-laden, there is time, ample time, to engage in one of the other pursuits of men. They begin to destroy themselves.

William: [In response to Julius Moomer being at a loss for words after discovering Williams Shakespeare has appeared] He speaks yet he says nothing. Romeo and Juliet, Act 2, Scene 2.
[Trumpets sound, this is a paraphrase as Romeo was the original speaker and used she instead of he]

Rod: [Opening Narration] You're looking at Mr. Fred Renard, who carries on his shoulder a chip the size of the national debt. This is a sour man, a friendless man, a lonely man, a grasping, compulsive, nervous man. This is a man who has lived thirty-six undistinguished, meaningless, pointless, failure-laden years and who at this moment looks for an escape - any escape, any way, anything, anybody - to get out of the rut. And this little old man is just what Mr. Renard is waiting for.

Marilyn: Am I very homely now?
Lana: No, darling, not to me. But afterwards, you'll be beautiful.

Marty: Bill, it's Marty, please let us in.
Dr. Bill Stockton: Marty, I would if I could, do you understand? I swear to you I would.
Marty: Bill, please, it's Marty.
Dr. Bill Stockton: Marty I can't, don't stand there asking me. I can't, I can't and I won't.
Marty: I feel sorry for you, Bill, I really do, you probably will survive but you'll have blood on your hands.
[pounds on the shelter door]
Marty: YOU'RE A DOCTOR! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO HELP PEOPLE! Help! Help! Help!
Dr. Bill Stockton: [to his wife and son] That was a million years ago...

Narrator: [Opening Narration] Witness a murder. The killer is Mr. William Feathersmith, a robber baron whose body composition is made up of a refrigeration plant covered by thick skin. In a moment, Mr. Feathersmith will proceed on his daily course of conquest and calumny with yet another business dealing. But this one will be one of those bizarre transactions that take place in an odd marketplace known as the Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: 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.

[Vassiloff and Boris are in Kuchenko's room cleaning up evidence]
Boris: [holding up his gun] Commissar? It would've been better, wouldn't it?
Commissar: It's alright. I'll get him in the next city. Now that I know that he is a most resourceful adversary.
[the phone rings, Boris unthinkingly picks it up]
Commissar: NO, BORIS!
[an explosion triggered by the phone goes off, Vassiloff and Boris are killed. The screen cuts to Major Kuchenko on a phone booth at an airport]
Phone: I'm sorry, sir. The line seems to be disconnected. I'm unable to reach your party.
Major: It's alright, operator. I... I have reached them.
[hangs up the phone as his flight to New York City is called for boarding]

Jason: You know, Wilfred, I think the only book you ever read was a ledger. I think if someone cut you open, they would find a cash register.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] It happens to be a fact: as one gets older, one does get wiser. If you don't believe it, ask Flora. Ask her any day of the ensuing weeks of her life, as she takes notes during the coming years and realizes that the worm has turned - youth has taken over. It's simply the way the calendar crumbles - in The Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [closing narration] The Lady Anne never reached port. After they were picked up by a cutter a few hours later, as Captain Protheroe had promised, the Ransomes searched the newspapers for news - but there wasn't any news. The Lady Anne with all her crew and all her passengers vanished without a trace. But the Ransomes knew what had happened, they knew that the ship had sailed off to a better port - a place called The Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: The poles of fear, the extremes of how the Earth might conceivably be doomed. Minor exercise in the care and feeding of a nightmare, respectfully submitted by all the thermometer-watchers - in The Twilight Zone.

[last lines]
Narrator: [Closing Narration] Two men in an attic locked in mortal embrace. Their common bond and their common enemy: Guilt - a disease all too prevalent amongst men, both in and out - of The Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Mr. Mulligan, a rather dour critic of his times, is shortly to discover the import of that old phrase, 'Out of the frying pan, into the fire' - said fire burning brightly at all times - in The Twilight Zone.

Peter: It's not hate. It's, uh, it's a point of view, it's a philosophy.
Ernst: Ah, I know the philosophy. I know it quite well. Nine years in a place called Dachau. You know who put me there? Peter Vollmer. A lot of Peter Vollmers. Frustrated men, sick men, angry men. But the result, the effect - never mind the cause -... 12 million bodies in shallow graves. And it all started with young men in uniform talking on street corners.

Danny: Barbie, it's no good, honey. None of this is any good.
Barbara: Look, if you won't fix yourself a drink, sit down and be quiet - will you? You know something, Daniel, you have a habit of looking poised, ready to spring.
Danny: What was the picture?

[closing narration]
Narrator: Some people possess talent, others are possessed by it. When that happens, the talent becomes a curse. Jimbo Cobb knew, right from the beginning, but before Ace Larsen learned that simple truth, he had to take a short trip - through The Twilight Zone.

James A. Corry: You mock me, you know that? When you look at me, when you talk to me, I'm being mocked.
Alicia: I'm sorry.
[rubbing her hand]
Alicia: You hurt me, Corry.
James A. Corry: Hurt you? How can I hurt you?
[grabs her arm]
James A. Corry: This isn't real flesh. There aren't any nerves under there, there aren't any muscles or tendons.
[throws her to the ground]
James A. Corry: [pointing to his car] You're just like this heap. A hunk of metal with arms and legs, instead of wheels. But this heap doesn't mock me the way you do. It doesn't look at me with make believe eyes or talk to me with a make believe voice. Well, I'm sick of being mocked by the memory of women. And that's all you are. A reminder to me that I'm so lonely I'm about to lose my mind.
[Corry sees that Alicia is crying and dries a tear from her eye]
Alicia: I can feel loneliness, too.

Jerry: Hey that's a great idea, block party, anything to get back to normal, huh?
Dr. Bill Stockton: Normal? I don't know. I don't know what normal is. I thought I did once. I don't anymore.
Jerry: I told you we'd pay for the damages, Bill.
Dr. Bill Stockton: Damages? I wonder. I wonder if anyone of us has any idea what those damages really are. Maybe one of them is finding out what we're really like when we're normal; the kind of people we are just underneath the skin. I mean all of us: a bunch of naked wild animals, who put such a price on staying alive that they'd claw their neighbors to death just for the privilege. We were spared a bomb tonight, but I wonder if we weren't destroyed even without it.

Rod: [Closing Narration] Once upon a time, there was a man named Harrington, a man named Forbes, a man named Gart. They used to exist, but don't any longer. Someone - or something- took them somewhere. At least they are no longer a part of the memory of man. And as to the X-20 supposed to be housed here in this hangar, this, too, does not exist. And if any of you have any questions concerning an aircraft and three men who flew her, speak softly of them - and only in - The Twilight Zone.

Robert: [Anne enters the house, having just come back from a frightening experience] Anne? Anne, honey.
Anne: Bob.
[runs to Bob's arms, sobbing]
Robert: Oh, baby!
Mrs. Henderson: Anne!
Robert: What happened, baby?
Mrs. Henderson: Tell me, what is it? Oh, honey, honey. What is it? What happened?
Robert: Anne, what happened?
[Anne continues crying]
Robert: Take it easy. Take it easy.
Mrs. Henderson: Try to get ahold of your breath, darling.
Mr. Henderson: Take a deep breath, Anne, and tell us. What happened, Anne?
Anne: There was a woman out there.
Mrs. Henderson: Woman? Who? What woman?
Anne: I don't know. I don't know, I never saw her before.
Mrs. Henderson: Well, what did she do?
Anne: She chased me.
Mrs. Henderson: Chased you?
Anne: She... she was on horseback...
Robert: Take it easy. Take it easy.
Anne: And she chased me. She tried to cut me off and run me down. I think if she... I think if she caught me, she would've killed me.
Mrs. Henderson: WHAT? ANNE!
Anne: Oh, God, the way she looked at me...
Mrs. Henderson: Oh, honey.
Mr. Henderson: Where was this, Anne?
Anne: I don't know.
Mr. Henderson: Try to remember. Take it easy.
Mrs. Henderson: John, John, hadn't you better get on that phone, and get somebody to look for her?
Mr. Henderson: Out in the meadow? Near the hills?
Anne: [still sobbing] Daddy.
Mr. Henderson: All right, dear. I'll take care of it.
Robert: It's over now, baby. Everything's gonna be all right.
Mrs. Henderson: Darling, what a fright you must've had.
[she and Bob lead Anne to the living room]
Mrs. Henderson: Come on, now. Take it easy. Now it's all right. Get your breath.

Alan: I'll be back tonight.
Doris: You'll never be back.
[he goes to the door]
Doris: Don't open that door.
[he looks back, opens the door, finds a dead goat outside]

Dr. Samuel Thorne: [Observing the face on Jason's body] This must be death. No horror, no fear... nothing but peace.

Charles: [addressing his fellow senior housemates] Are you the same ones that used to skip rope - and hunt for polliwogs? Huh? And run through sprinklers - huh?
[sees the lawn sprinkler running]
Charles: Run through sprinklers.

Max: Wait, you're ten years old again, Pip. How come you're ten years old again?
Young: That's what I am, Pop. I'm ten years old.

Adam: Well, Jiggs, don't you think that all of this is just a little bit too much the way it should be?
Jiggs: I don't get you.
Adam: 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.
[laughs]
Adam: 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 - that's my impression of it!
Jiggs: Oh, man, you're really clipped. I don't know what you're talking about.
Carol: [in the Ritchies' home] Well, the Brothers Grimm, as I live.
Henry: What're you doing up?
Carol: I'm not up. I'm down. Just like you and your funny friend here. Have they...?
Paul: Fifteen more minutes. That's another thing. Why does this always happen around midnight?
Henry: Because that's when it happens!
Paul: Yeah, but why?
Henry: You tell me why!
Paul: 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.
Paul: Yeah, that's strange, too, when you come to think of it.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] Jesse Cardiff, pool shark. The best on Randolph Street, who will soon learn that trying to be the best at anything carries its own special risks in or out - of The Twilight Zone.

Chief: That... that sub wasn't ever going to be able to come up again.
Captain: What about you, Boats?

The: This is a nightmare. It must be a nightmare.
The: Yes, indeed. But whose?

Lt. Mueller: I just, I just found it difficult to...
Carl: To do what?
Lt. Mueller: To reconcile the killing of men and women without any warning. Makes me wonder if we're not damned now.
Carl: In the eyes of the British admiralty, we most certainly are.
Lt. Mueller: I mean, sir, in the eyes of God.
Carl: Oh, you're not only a fool, Leutnant, but also a religious fool, and perhaps a mystic at that. Suppose we are damned. What will happen then?
Lt. Mueller: I've had dreams about it. Perhaps there is a special kind of hell for people like us. Perhaps to be damned is to have a fate like the people on that ship, to suffer as they suffer and to die as they die.
Carl: You are a mystic, Leutnant.
Lt. Mueller: We'd ride the ghost of that ship every night. Every night, Herr Kapitän, for eternity. They could die only once, just once, but we could die a hundred million times. We could ride the ghost of that ship every night. Every night for eternity.

Rod: [closing narration] The S.S. Queen of Glasgow, heading for New York, and the time is 1942. For one man, it is always 1942, and this man will ride the ghost of that ship every night for eternity. This is what is meant by paying the fiddler. This is the comeuppance awaiting every man when the ledger of his life is opened and examined, the tally made, and then the reward or the penalty paid. And in the case of Carl Lanser, former Kapitän Leutnant, Navy of the Third Reich, this is the penalty. This is the justice meted out. This is judgment night - in The Twilight Zone.

Marsha: *SPOILER* I'm a mannequin. That's what I am, I'm a mannequin and it was my turn to...
Saleswoman: ...Your turn to leave us for a month. Becoming much clearer now, isn't it? You left us for a month and you lived with the outsiders. But you were due back yesterday and you didn't show up. You know, Marsha, that's very selfish, my dear. All of us wait our turn and we simply do not overstay it. Now, it was my turn starting last night. I'm one day delayed already.
Marsha: Of course. Of course. I'm sorry, I forgot. When you're on the outside, everything seems so normal. As if...
Elevator: As if what, Marsha?
Marsha: As if we were like the others. Like the outsiders. Like the real people.

Ramos: I want to know, why do I have so many enemies?
Father: It is the story of all tyrants, General. They have but one real enemy, and this is the one they never recognize... until too late.

Somerset: This is the truth! Honest, honest! Do you know how I got away? I just took out my harmonica, blew a couple of chords, and they just fainted dead away.

Marilyn: Did you know that Dostoyevsky was an epileptic? He was ugly, he was deformed, but he wrote about beauty, about real beauty!
Professor: Marilyn, I must warn you this kind of subversive...
Marilyn: These men wrote about life and about the dignity of the individual human spirit, and about love.
Professor: This is enough!

Male: Maaarsha? Who do you think you're fooling, Marsha?
Female: Come on, dear. Climb off it.

George: Tennyson, I've known Colonel Taylor for a long time. This is not a capricious man. I warn you, he's is in deadly earnest.
Jamie: Do you know my Wife, Sir? Her name is Doris. She's a lovely thing, frail, beautiful, fragile. Like a Cameo Brooch. But her tastes run to unfragile things, sizable baubles for sizable price tags. She shops at Tiffany's the way other women enter a Supermarket. My miserable misfortune is that I happen to be very much in love with her. I am also desperate in need of money. I may sound melodramatic, but it happens to be true.

[Opening narration - from "Where Is Everybody?" to "A Passage for Trumpet"]
Narrator: There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call the Twilight Zone.

Rod: [Closing Narration] Martin Sloan, age thirty-six, vice-president in charge of media. Successful in most things, but not in the one effort that all men try at some time in their lives - trying to go home again. And also like all men, perhaps there'll be an occasion - maybe a summer night sometime - when he'll look up from what he's doing and listen to the distant music of a calliope, and hear the voices and the laughter of the people and the places of his past. And perhaps across his mind, there'll flit a little errant wish, that a man might not have to become old, never outgrow the parks and the merry-go-rounds of his youth. And he'll smile then, too, because he'll know that it is just an errant wish, some wisp of memory, not too important really, some laughing ghosts that would cross a man's mind - that are a part of The Twilight Zone.

Rod: [closing narration] Up there, up there in the vastness of space, in the void that is sky, up there is an enemy known as isolation. It sits there in the stars waiting, waiting with the patience of eons, forever waiting... in the Twilight Zone.

Professor A. Daemon: Love potions are my cheapest item. And they're over-priced at that.

Lt. Fitzgerald: I'm five for five captain. How many coincidences add up to a fact?

SS: You'd like water number - 23575? Is that what you'd like? You'd like water? But why should you care? It's only been five little days since you've been fed. Five little days!

[opening narration]
Narrator: Portrait of a nervous man: Oliver Pope by name, office manager by profession. A man beset by life's problems: his job, his salary, the competition to get ahead. Obviously, Mr. Pope's mind is not on his driving... Oliver Pope, businessman-turned killer, on a rain-soaked street in the early evening of just another day during just another drive home from the office. The victim, a kid on a bicycle, lying injured, near death. But Mr. Pope hasn't time for the victim, his only concern is for himself. Oliver Pope, hit-and-run driver, just arrived at a crossroad in his life, and he's chosen the wrong turn. The hit occurred in the world he knows, but the run will lead him straight into - the Twilight Zone.

Rod: [Opening Narration] The time is the day after tomorrow. The place: a far corner of the universe. The cast of characters: three men, lost amongst the stars, three men sharing the common urgency of all men lost - they're looking for home. And in a moment, they'll find home, not a home that is a place to be seen but a strange, unexplainable experience to be felt.

Narrator: [opening narration] Mr. Horace Ford - who has a preoccupation with another time, a time of childhood, a time of growing up, a time of street games, stickball and hide-'n-go-seek. He has a reluctance to go check out a mirror and see the nature of his image: Proof positive that the time he dwells in has already passed him by. But in a moment or two, he'll discover that mechanical toys and memoires and daydreaming and wishful thinking, and all manner of odd and special events, can lead one into a special province, uncharted and unmapped - a country of both shadow and substance, known as the Twilight Zone.

William: I think I will take a walk now. I am that merry wanderer of the night.
[Trumpets sound]
William: A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act 2, Scene 1
[by Puck]

Narrator: [Opening Narration] The residence of Dr. William Loren, which is in reality a menagerie for machines. We're about to discover that sometimes the product of man's talent and genius can walk amongst us untouched by the normal ravages of time. These are Dr. Loren's robots, built to function, as well as artistic perfection. But in a moment, Dr. William Loren, wife, and daughter will discover that perfection is relative, that even robots have to be paid for, and very shortly will be shown exactly what is the bill.

Jess: Change me back. Please, I'll pay. I promise I'll pay.
Granny: Well, your promises ain't much good. You're already trying to get out of paying for the first favor I done you.

Commander: [Indicating a new planetary system] That's where I'm going. When?
Dr. Bixler: In about six months. The ship's being built now. It's off the drawing board. The keel is being laid. But it'll take only one man, and that man should be right there watching every rivet, every bolt, every item of equipment going in there. You are that man, Commander. You will be the sole occupant, and you will be its pilot.
Commander: Doctor, I--I like this assignment very much.
Dr. Bixler: That's precisely why you were chosen. Of course there will be the usual dangers, the usual unknowns. In the past, you've had meteor showers to contend with. You've had the usual calculated risk of mechanical difficulties, landing difficulties, ejection troubles and the rest of it. Well, you'll still have those. Compounded. We have another factor here. Another problem.
Commander: Distance.
Dr. Bixler: Distance.

[opening narration]
Narrator: You're looking at the house of the late Mrs. Henrietta Walker. This is Mrs. Walker, herself, as she appeared twenty-five years ago. And this, except for isolated objects, is the living room of Mrs. Walker's house, as it appeared in that same year. The other rooms, upstairs and down, are much the same. The time, however, is not twenty-five years ago - but now. The house of the late Mrs. Henrietta Walker is, you see, a house which belongs almost entirely to the past, a house which, like Mrs. Walker's clock here, has ceased to recognize the passage of time. Only one element is missing now, one remaining item in the estate of the late Mrs. Walker: her son, Alex, thirty-four years of age and, up 'til twenty minutes ago, the so-called 'perennial bachelor.' With him is his bride, the former Miss Virginia Lane. They're returning from the city hall in order to get Mr. Walker's clothes packed, make final arrangements for the sale of the house, lock it up, and depart on their honeymoon. Not a complicated set of tasks, it would appear, and yet the newlywed Mrs. Walker is about to discover that the old adage 'You can't go home again' has little meaning - in The Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] A word to the wise, now, to the garbage collectors of the world, to the curio seekers, to the antique buffs, to everyone who would try to coax out a miracle from unlikely places. Check that bottle you're taking back for a two-cent deposit. The genie you save might be your own. Case in point, Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Castle, fresh from the briefest of trips into The Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Around and around she goes, and where she stops, nobody knows. All Ed Lindsay knows is that he desperately wanted a second chance, and he finally got it - through a strange and wonderful time machine called a radio - in The Twilight Zone.

Jackie: [Jackie Rhoades: noticing his reflection is gone] Hey! Hey there. Hey, Where are you? Hey, glass, come on out here. Come on, do your job now. Hey, I wanna see how I look, glass. Come on.
Jackie: [John Rhoades] It don't make any difference, Jackie, because you're not going anywhere. You go out that door, we're finished. We're both finished. That's the door to nowhere. Jackie, Jackie let me out! I wanna take over! I gotta take over! I want a decent job; some friends!
Jackie: [Jackie Rhoades] I got a job. I got friends. I got everything I want!
Jackie: [John Rhoades] You got nothing. You got nothing but a pain inside! You got no friends, the lot of them. You got nothing. You ARE nothing! It's time to be something! Jackie, let me out! Let me take over, Jackie. This is your last chance.
Jackie: [Jackie Rhoades: moving the mirror] All right, I'll let you outta there! Come on out of there, wise guy! Come on out! What a phony. YOU'RE A LIAR!
[spins the mirror and is stammers hysterically as John moves closer in the mirror towards Jackie]

Rod: [opening narration] Twelve o'clock noon. An ordinary scene, an ordinary city. Lunchtime for thousands of ordinary people. To most of them, this hour will be a rest, a pleasant break in a day's routine. To most, but not all. To Edward Hall, time is an enemy, and the hour to come is a matter of life and death.

Narrator: [opening narration] Portrait of a honeymoon couple getting ready for a journey - with a difference. These newlyweds have been married for six years, and they're not taking this honeymoon to start their life but rather to save it, or so Eileen Ransome thinks. She doesn't know why she insisted on a ship for this voyage, except that it would give them some time, and she'd never been on one before - certainly never one like the Lady Anne. The tickets read 'New York to Southampton', but this old liner is going somewhere else. Its destination - The Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Jordan Herrick, syndicated columnist, whose work appears in more than a hundred newspapers. By nature a cynic, a disbeliever, caught for the moment by a lovely vision. He knows the vision he's seen is no dream; she is Pamela Morris, renowned movie star, whose name is a household word and whose face is known to millions. What Mr. Herrick does not know is that he has also just looked into the face - of the Twilight Zone.

Rod: [Closing Narration] Practical joke perpetrated by Mother Nature and a combination of improbable events. Practical joke wearing the trappings of nightmare, of terror, of desperation. Small human drama played out in a desert ninety-seven miles from Reno, Nevada, U.S.A., continent of North America, the Earth, and, of course - the Twilight Zone.

Paula: The whole city of New Orleans is dancing, and what do we do? We have a death watch for a crazy old man!

Avery: She's just like a science fiction, that's what she is! A reg'lar Ray Bradbury! Six humans and one monster from outer space. You wouldn't happen to have an eye in the back of your head, would you?

Narrator: [closing narration] Mr. Paul Radin, a dealer in fantasy, who sits in the rubble of his own making and imagines that he's the last man on Earth, doomed to a perdition of unutterable loneliness because a practical joke has turned into a nightmare. Mr. Paul Radin, pallbearer at a funeral that he manufactured himself in the Twilight Zone.

Rod: [Opening Narration] Portrait of a town drunk named Al Denton. This is a man who's begun his dying early - a long, agonizing route through a maze of bottles. Al Denton, who would probably give an arm or a leg or a part of his soul to have another chance, to be able to rise up and shake the dirt from his body and the bad dreams that infest his consciousness.
[Shot of Henry J. Fate]
Rod: [Narration continues] In the parlance of the times, this is a peddler, a rather fanciful-looking little man in a black, frock coat.
[a six-gun materializes beside Denton]
Rod: [Narration continues] And this is the third principal character of our story. Its function: perhaps to give Mr. Al Denton his second chance.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] Mr. Roger Shackelforth. Age: youthful twenties. Occupation: being in love. Not just in love, but madly, passionately, illogically, miserably, all-consumingly in love - with a young woman named Leila, who has a vague recollection of his face and even less than a passing interest. In a moment, you'll see a switch, because Mr. Roger Shackelforth, the young gentleman so much in love, will take a short but very meaningful journey into The Twilight Zone.

Goldsmith: I don't think you understand, Major. We don't recognize your authority here. We've had transients pass through on occasion, but they didn't stay. Like you, they represented themselves as "authorities," but we discovered they carried their headquarters with them. They represented no one but themselves.

SS: Becker? Becker, I did kill you. I killed you the night...
Alfred: You killed me the night the Americans came close to the camp. You tried to burn it down, remember? You tried to kill everyone who was left. In my case, you succeeded. So, I think it would be a waste of time, Captain, wouldn't it. A waste of your precious time, of that little time you have left to murder me again.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Dramatis personae: a metal man, who will go by the name of Simon, whose life as well as his body has been stamped out for him; and the woman who tends to him, the lady Barbara, who's discovered belatedly that all bad things don't come to an end, and that once a bed is made, it's quite necessary that you sleep in it. Tonight's uncomfortable little exercise in avarice and automatons - from the Twilight Zone.

Mike: [trapped in a phone booth] All right, who's the wise guy? Who locked the door? It's a great gag. How about a hand, somebody? A little assistance. How about it? This is an absolutely hysterical town, and I'm growing very fond of it. This isn't funny anymore. I don't like this jazz. It's getting dull.

Col. Archie Taylor: Oh, hello, Alfred. Franklin told me you were waiting.
George: Only to pose this question to you. Very succinct Archie, very brief. How long?
Col. Archie Taylor: How long what?
George: How long are you going to keep on with this..this prolonged practical joke?
Col. Archie Taylor: Well, not much longer.
Franklin: [Hand's the Colonel his hat]
Col. Archie Taylor: [Takes his hat from Franklin] Thank you, Franklin.
Col. Archie Taylor: You should see our boy down there. 4 and a half months, not a sound out of him. It's incredible. That fop won't take it for another month. This I'll guarantee you.
George: For your sake, I hope that's the case.
Col. Archie Taylor: My sake?
George: You have the money, Archie?
Col. Archie Taylor: I find that insulting, Alfred.
George: I'm sorry if it is. I think he's going to beat you, Archie. I think that boy down there is going to remain silent for the entire year. And I think you're going to owe him $500,000. I just hope you've got it

[closing narration]
Narrator: The next time your TV set is on the blink, when you're in the need of a first-rate repairman, may we suggest our own specialist? Factory-trained, prompt, honest, twenty-four hour service. You won't find him in the phone book, but his office is conveniently located - in the Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: The reluctant gentleman with the sizeable mouth is Mr. Frisby. He has all the drive of a broken camshaft and the aggressive vinegar of a corpse. As you've no doubt gathered, his big stock in trade is the tall tale. Now, what he doesn't know is that the visitors out front are a very special breed, destined to change his life beyond anything even his fertile imagination could manufacture. The place is Pitchville Flats, the time is the present. But Mr. Frisby's on the first leg of a rather fanciful journey into the place we call the Twilight Zone.

The: You're very pretty, now that I see you clearly. But I'm afraid the only way I could convince you of my honorable intentions would be by force. And I'm terribly, terribly sick of fighting.

Subaltern: Stand where you are. No further. You have been removed from office. The Field Investigators have declared you *Obsolete*.
Chancellor: Obsolete?
Subaltern: [robotic monotone] You have disgraced the State before the masses. You have proven yourself a hypocrite, a traitor to the ideals of the State; you have, as such, no function. *You are Obsolete!*
Chancellor: But I'm not. I'm not obsolete!
Subaltern: YOU ARE OBSOLETE!
Jurors: Obsolete! Obsolete!
Subaltern: *YOU ARE OBSOLETE!*
Chancellor: [hysterical] You're making a terrible mistake, a tragic mistake! I'm not obsolete! I *work* for the State! I *believe* in the State! I help give the State *strength*! How can you call me obsolete? HOW CAN YOU?
[the new Chancellor motions to the guards]
Chancellor: Please, I'm not obsolete...
[turns to run but finds the jury rising against him on both sides; he looks desperately around]
Chancellor: Please... please, I'm not obsolete; I have a function, I have a purpose. Please. I've *served* the State. Please... please, no... I'm not obsolete! No, no! Please! I'm not obsolete. No! I've *supported* the State; please, no! Please! I'm not obsolete! I, I -- please, no; I'm not obsolete, no! I *serve* the State... Please, please! NO! I *support* the State!
[the growling jurors close in on the ex-Chancellor, who breaks away with a yell and is chased across the room toward the new Chancellor's podium; the ex-Chancellor is grabbed and torn to pieces by the guards and jurors]

[Hall gets up from the couch]
Dr. Rathmann: I thought you said you were tired?
Edward: I am. I'm the tiredest man in the world. You wanna know how many hours I've been awake? Eighty-seven hours. Almost four days and nights.
Dr. Rathmann: And you can't go to sleep, is that it?
Edward: No, Doctor, not can't, I mustn't. I mustn't go to sleep because if I do I'll never wake up.

Talky: My name is Talking Tina and I love you very much.
Erich: Will you shut that thing off?

McNulty: Wouldn't you think that, after one whoe year of putting ideas in that suggestion box, I'd get noticed?
Joe: Let me tell you something, McNulty: Getting noticed and getting liked are two different things.
McNulty: Ah, what do you know?
Joe: Nothing, McNulty. Not a thing.
Daniel: [leaving] Good night, Joe.
Joe: Daniel, wait...! All I do know is that every night, of every week, of every month - except Election Day - you come in here and drive everybody out of their skulls by walking on your lower lip. You think about that now, will you? Would you think about that?

Rod: [Opening Narration] You're about to meet a hypochondriac. Witness, Mr. Walter Bedeker, age forty-four, afraid of the following: death, disease, other people, germs, draft, and everything else. He has one interest in life, and that's Walter Bedeker. One preoccupation: the life and well-being of Walter Bedeker. One abiding concern about society: that if Walter Bedeker should die, how will it survive without him?

[closing narration]
Narrator: Advice to all future male scientists: be sure you understand the opposite sex, especially if you intend being a computer expert. Otherwise, you may find yourself, like poor Elwood, defeated by a jealous machine, a most dangerous sort of female, whose victims are forever banished - to the Twilight Zone.

[seeing the two giant astronauts approaching]
Peter: GO AWAY! YOU CAN'T STAY HERE! GO AWAY! DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND? I'M THE GOD! I'M THE GOD, DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND? I'M THE GOD!

Julius: [Julius Moomer has just finished doing the jig of joy] S'matter, Will? You don't look so good.
William: Like a strutting player whose conceit lies in his hamstring.
[Trumpets sound]
William: That's from Troilus and Cressida, Act 1, Scene 3
[by Ulysses]

Edward: [opens the window] Can I open this?
[looks down]
Edward: Quite a drop.
Dr. Rathmann: Mr. Hall, I'll ah... I'll have to close the window.
[closes it]
Edward: I only wanted some air.
Dr. Rathmann: Well I'll ah... I'll turn the conditioner up. It works best with the windows closed.
Edward: Did you think I'd jump?
Dr. Rathmann: You might have.
Edward: Not a chance. I want to live. That's my problem.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] To the average person, a museum is a place of knowledge, a place of beauty and truth and wonder. Some people come to study, others to contemplate, others to look for the sheer joy of looking. Charley Parkes has his own reasons. He comes to the museum to get away from the world. It isn't really the sixty-cent cafeteria meal that has drawn him here every day, it's the fact that here in these strange, cool halls, he can be alone for a little while, really and truly alone. Anyway, that's how it was before he got lost and wandered into - The Twilight Zone.

Captain: Now listen to me. I want to tell you some things about the Earth that you haven't heard before. Things that are ugly. Things that are wrong. Things - that cannot be lived with. There is violence on Earth. There are hatreds! And jealousy! Now listen to me, listen to me and listen carefully. The Earth is a place we do not know. The Earth is a place we have never lived in. It is a society we do not belong in. If we leave here, we will die. We will *die*! We'll be committing suicide, if we go back to Earth. We will die of a misery we have never experienced before. Loneliness. Loneliness like animals in a zoo. We do not belong there.
[points to Col. Sloane]
Captain: We do not belong to his kind. We do not belong *there*. We do not belong *there*.
Col. Sloane: Captain Benteen! Why don't you let your "children" vote on it?
Captain: Only if they know what's waiting for them! Only if they know that the Earth is not a garden. Never was a garden! And it never will be a garden!
Col. Sloane: [Stepping forward] Fair enough! Fair enough! Then I'll tell you what Earth is. It's a race of men - struggling for survival. Just as you have survived. And Captain Benteen is quite right when he tells you it isn't a place of all beauty. We may yet have wars. And there still remains prejudice. And I suppose as long as men walk, there'll be angry men, jealous men, unforgiving men. But it has one thing that you don't have. One thing. It lets every man be his own master. There won't be any Captain Benteens down there for you. There won't be anybody to tell you when to eat, and when to sleep, and when to meet. There won't be anyone to tell you when to dance or what to sing or how to play. And instead of the thirst, you may feel hunger. Instead of heat, you may feel cold! But you'll be men and women. You won't be sheep. You won't be a kindergarten. And when you pray to God, his name won't be "Benteen"!

Kanamit: Please, Mr. Chambers, eat. We wouldn't want you to lose weight.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Incident on a July afternoon, 1881. A man named Driscoll who came and went and, in the process, learned a simple lesson, perhaps best said by a poet named Lathbury, who wrote, "Children of yesterday, heirs of tomorrow, what are you weaving? Labor and sorrow? Look to your looms again, faster and faster fly the great shuttles prepared by the Master. Life's in the loom, room for it - room!" Tonight's tale of clocks and calendars - in The Twilight Zone.

1st: [helping Lanser unpack his belongings in his cabin] I believe that's it, sir. Anything else I can do to help?
[sees a cap in a suitcase that he didn't notice before]
1st: Oh, I didn't see this.
[takes the cap out of the suitcase]
1st: War souvenir, sir?
Carl: Beg pardon?
1st: This, sir. I was wondering if it was a war souvenir.
Carl: War souvenir?
1st: Yes, sir. German Naval Officer's cap, submarine commander, as a matter of fact, sir.
Carl: [grabbing the cap] Don't touch anything that doesn't concern you.
1st: Terribly sorry, sir. I thought I might hang it up for you.
Carl: That won't be necessary. I'll hang it up mys...
[looks into the lining of the cap and sees that sewn into it is his own name with the words "Captain-Lieutenant Kriegsmarine"; Lanser looks up, bewildered]

[closing narration]
Narrator: 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.

Man: [after Ben's two "subjects" have frozen the Doctor and Mrs. Gann, Jenny ushers him into her bedroom and closes the door behind them. When both "subjects" open the door, they find... two Jennys!] Your - uhm - Your Majesty?
[Both Jennys smile and nod in unison]
Jenny: Looks like you'll HAVE to take both of us now.
Jenny: Right; what would the Council say if you brought back the wrong one?
Man: Oh, now - This isn't fair, Your Majesty. This isn't fair at all!
Jenny: [CUTTING-ROOM FLOOR-LINE] What makes you think it's MEANT to be fair... Any more so than the Council's rules?
Jenny: [CUTTING-ROOM FLOOR-LINE] That's right; the Council wants to make the decisions themselves, with a scapegoat on hand in case their choices backfired.
Jenny: [CUTTING-ROOM FLOOR-LINE] In other words, they want to have their cake and eat it as well.
Jenny: [CUTTING-ROOM FLOOR-LINE] So If you REALLY want to have us in charge, from now on, you'll just have to let us TAKE charge - and then make the most of what you yourselves demanded.
Man: [CUTTING-ROOM FLOOR-LINE] "Us," Your Majesty?
[Both Jennys nod, smiling. With a resigned shrug, both Men usher the girls away]

[closing narration]
Narrator: 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?

Mike: [in an empty diner] Say, I noticed there's a town just up the road. What's the name of it?
[getting no response, he climbs over the counter and heads to the kitchen]
Mike: Customer.
[going to the back door and opening it]
Mike: Hey, you got a customer out front. Customer!
[closing the door]
Mike: Ham and eggs! Eggs over easy, hash browns. Hey! You got a customer out here. Ham and eggs, eggs over easy, hash browns. Hungry cash customer.
[taking money out of his pocket]
Mike: I got $2.85, American money. Sure, American money. Well, we got that much settled. I'm an American. You see, there's some question about my identity. Let me put it to you this way, I'm not sure who I am. But I got $2.85, and I'm hungry. That much is established. $2.85 and I'm hungry!
[going back out to the counter]
Mike: I'm gonna wake up in a minute, I know it. I'm gonna wake up.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Major Robert Gaines, a latter-day voyager just returned from an adventure. Submitted to you without any recommendation as to belief or disbelief. You can accept or reject; you pays your money and you takes your choice. But credulous or incredulous, don't bother to ask anyone for proof that it could happen. The obligation is a reverse challenge: prove that it couldn't. This happens to be... the Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: A fable? Most assuredly. But who's to say at some distant moment there might be an assembly line producing a gentle product in the form of a grandmother, whose stock in trade is love? Fable, sure - but who's to say?

[opening narration]
Narrator: A swimming pool not unlike any other pool. A structure built of tile and cement and money, a backyard toy for the affluent, wet entertainment for the well-to-do. But to Jeb and Sport Sharewood, this pool holds mysteries not dreamed of by the building contractor. Not guaranteed in any sales brochure. For this pool has a secret exit that leads to a never-never land, a place designed for junior citizens who need a long voyage away from reality into the bottomless regions of The Twilight Zone.

Cadwallader: [Walter Bedeker is in his cell about to face an eternity in prison] Mr. Bedeker, about that escape clause, you care to utilize it now?
[Bedeker nods yes]
Cadwallader: That's a wise man. Odd thing: you look like a man having a heart attack. Just like a man having a heart attack.
[Bedeker falls over, dead]

[opening narration]
Narrator: Portrait of a bush-league führer named Peter Vollmer, a sparse little man who feeds off his self-delusions and finds himself perpetually hungry for want of greatness in his diet. And like some goose-stepping predecessors, he searches for something to explain his hunger, and to rationalize why a world passes him by without saluting. The something he looks for and finds is in a sewer. In his own twisted and distorted lexicon, he calls it faith, strength, truth. But in just a moment, Peter Vollmer will ply his trade on another kind of corner, a strange intersection in a shadowland called The Twilight Zone.

Janet: Mr. Smith?
Walter: Yes?
Janet: Why do we have to look like this?
Walter: I don't know, Miss Tyler, I really don't know. But you know something? it doesn't matter. There's an old saying, a very, very old saying: "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder". When we leave here, when we go to the village, try to think of that, Miss Tyler. Say it over and over to yourself. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder".

Julius: Hey Will, Will. Will. Hey wait a minute, Will. Wait a minute. What're you doing? You're gonna louse up the whole deal. What am I going to say to them in there? What am I gonna tell them?
William: Tell them simply that foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun. It shines everywhere.
[Trumpets sound]
William: Act 3, Scene 1, Twelfth Night.
[by Feste]

Narrator: [Opening Narration] Commonplace - if somewhat grim - unsocial event known as a necktie party, the guest of dishonor a cowboy named Joe Caswell, just a moment away from a rope, a short dance several feet off the ground, and then the dark eternity of all evil men. Mr. Joe Caswell, who, when the good Lord passed out a conscience, a heart, a feeling for fellow men, must have been out for a beer and missed out. Mr. Joe Caswell, in the last, quiet moment of a violent life.

Reporter: [sarcastically after Dingle's superstrength disappears] So long, Hercules.

William: But she has the most definitive line of the play. In the epilogue, I took it from Twelfth Night.
[trumpets play during the following quote]
William: If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken and so die.
[Act 1, Scene 1 by Duke Orsino-not mentioned by Shakespeare]

Narrator: [closing narration] Exit Mr. and Mrs. Horace Ford, who have lived through a bizarre moment not to be calibrated on normal clocks or watches. Time has passed, to be sure - but it's the special time in the special place known as... the Twilight Zone.

Rod: [middle marration] A man can think a a lot of thoughts and walk a lot of pavement between afternoon and night. And to a man like Martin Sloan, to whom a memory has suddenly become reality, a resolve can come just as clearly and inexorably as stars in a summer night. Martin Sloan is now back in town. And his resolve is to put in a claim to the past.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Introducing Mr. Jared Garrity, a gentleman of commerce, who in the latter half of the nineteenth century plied his trade in the wild and wooly hinterlands of the American West. And Mr. Garrity, if one can believe him, is a resurrecter of the dead - which, on the face of it, certainly sounds like the bull is off the nickel. But to the scoffers amongst you, and you ladies and gentlemen from Missouri, don't laugh this one off entirely, at least until you've seen a sample of Mr. Garrity's wares, and an example of his services. The place is Happiness, Arizona, the time around 1890, and you and I have just entered a saloon where the bar whiskey is brewed, bottled and delivered - from The Twilight Zone.

Joe: I don't know what I ever saw in her. She ain't got no understanding. She wouldn't know sympathy if it hopped up and bit her on the backside.

Roger: Listen, darling, I have to see you.
Leila: Roger, it's impossible.
Roger: I must see you, darling, must! Furiously, fiercely must! I love you.
Leila: Roger, you've got to stop this. You're acting like a baby. I can't see you now, and that's that.
Roger: Well then, talk to me. Say something! Say anything!
Leila: Say something? Alright Roger, I'll say something. Why don't you take a flying jump at the moon?

Penell: Virge, this is the happiest day of my life!
Virge: [laughs] If this is the happiest day of your life, how come you look like somebody just stuck lemon juice in your beer, huh?
[laughs]
Virge: No, Mr. Penell, you're not so happy. You got no reason to be happy. Believe me, Mr. Penell, I know. You got no reason to be happy. No reason at all. Now if you could've kept me in the river, a cold clammy little item without a voice,
[poking Penell]
Virge: Then you could've been happy. But this is one double-cross, Mr Penell, that came back to bite you.
Penell: [nervous] Virge, you got me wrong, Virge.
Virge: I held up my end of the bargain and instead of the payoff, all I got was the river. And that river was cold, Mr. Penell. Far too cold for this time of the year. Lousy swimming, Mr. Penell! Especially when you're almost out of blood.
Penell: Virge! Virge!
Virge: I brought back a satchel for you, Mr. Penell. There was a lot of money in it. It was a real risky job. Now, I figure my cut is more than a cold swim!

Horace: I don't know what happened to me, Laura. I have no idea. But... for one minute, or one second, or maybe one hour, I don't know... I saw something that... made every memory I ever had a lie. Because when I was a kid was an ugly, sad, unbearable nightmare. And I saw it. I know what it was. I remember it now.
Laura: I don't know what happened to you either, Horace. But I think we're all like that. We remember what was good, and we black out what was bad. Maybe because we couldn't live if we didn't.

Old: Well, little monkey, I have a confession to make. You see, I'm a fraud.

[opening narration]
Narrator: The time is 1863. The place: the state of Virginia. The event is a mass blood-letting known as the Civil War, a tragic moment in time when a nation was split into two fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation.
Narrator: [continuing narration subsequent to extensive character dialogue] This is Joseph Paradine, Confederate cavalry, as he heads down toward a small town in the middle of a valley. But very shortly, Joseph Paradine will make contact with the enemy. He will also make contact with an outpost not found on a military map - an outpost called - The Twilight Zone.

Bob: There's a man out there.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] In the vernacular of space, this is T minus one hour, sixty minutes before a human being named Major Robert Gaines is lifted off from the Mother Earth and rocketed into the sky, farther and longer than any man ahead of him. Call this one of the first faltering steps of man to sever the umbilical cord of gravity and stretch out a fingertip toward an unknown. In a moment, we'll join this astronaut named Gaines and embark on an adventure, because the environs overhead - the stars, the sky, the infinite space - are all part of a vast question mark known as the Twilight Zone.

Peter: [demanding to know who the benefactor is] You, WHAT ARE YOU? You direct traffic from the darkness! YOU PLAN THE BATTLES BUT YOU'RE NEVER THERE WHEN THEY'RE FOUGHT! Why don't you come out into the light? Why don't you come up here alongside of me? Why don't you give me a name, and a face and a reason WHY?
Adolf: [In the shadows] Mr. Vollmer! I was making speeches before you could read them. I was fighting battles when your only struggle was to climb out of a womb! I was taking over the world when your universe was a crib! As for being in darkness, Mr. Vollmer, I *INVENTED* DARKNESS!
[Steps out of the light to reveal that he is Adolf Hitler]

Narrator: [Opening Narration] Maple Street, U.S.A. Late summer. A tree-lined little world of front porch gliders, barbecues, the laughter of children, and the bell of an ice cream vendor. At the sound of the roar and the flash of light, it will be precisely 6:43 P.M. on Maple Street.
Narrator: [Continued Opening Narration subsequent to character dialogue] This is Maple Street on a late Saturday afternoon. Maple Street in the last calm and reflective moment - before the monsters came.

Ernst: [Ernst has interrupted Peter's speech] Go on, Mr. Vollmer. You were saying? I can tell them what you were saying. I've heard it before. I've heard it a thousand times before. In Munich, in Berlin, on a hundred different street corners. It was drivel then, and it is drivel now.
Peter: [weakly] You've got to stop, Ernst.
Ernst: [to the crowd] Well, what is this one here? The new model? A 1963 fuhrer right off the assembly line? Well, this one is not so new. He's not so fresh. This one is nothing but a cheap copy!
Frank: [whisper] Peter, we've got to do something about it. We're losing the audience. Let me get rid of him. Let me get rid of him.
Peter: [to Frank] Just leave me alone.
Ernst: [to the crowd] Well, let me tell you about this one. About the breed, the species. They're all alike. They are all alike. Problem children. Sick, sad neurotics, who take applause like a needle!
Peter: [pitifully] That's enough, Ernst. Please. Please?
Ernst: Listen to me, Peter, and let them listen. Or else I'll tell them about a quaking, whimpering boy who cried on my couch; who still cries on my couch.
Peter: [quietly] Please don't, please Ernst. Please don't.

[Grady has now grown to 10 feet tall, barely fitting into his apartment]
Grady: I'm gonna ri... Wait a minute. I'm too big. I'm too big. I'M TOO BIG! I CAN'T RIDE! WAIT A MINUTE! I CAN'T RIDE!
[Grady begins trashing his tiny apartment]
Grady: I CAN'T WEAR MY CLOTHES! I'M TOO-I'M TOO BIG! I'M TOO BIG! HEAR ME? I'M TOO BIG! I'M TOO BIG! I CAN'T RIDE! NO!
[Grady has been brought to his knees in desperation]
Grady: Please, please. Please, make me small! Please, I'll never ask for anything again. PLEASE, MAKE ME SMALL. PLEASE! OH, GOD.
Grady: [as Grady's conscience; mocking] You are small, Mr. Grady. You see, every time you won an honest race, that's when you were a giant. Right now, they just don't come any smaller.

Narrator: [opening Narration] Portrait of a frightened man: Mr. Robert Wilson, thirty-seven, husband, father, and salesman on sick leave. Mr. Wilson has just been discharged from a sanitarium where he spent the last six months recovering from a nervous breakdown, the onset of which took place on an evening not dissimilar to this one, on an airliner very much like the one in which Mr. Wilson is about to be flown home - the difference being that, on that evening half a year ago, Mr. Wilson's flight was terminated by the onslaught of his mental breakdown. Tonight, he's travelling all the way to his appointed destination, which, contrary to Mr. Wilson's plan, happens to be in the darkest corner of the Twilight Zone.

Newspaper Editor Colbey: Jagger, the man you killed was no saint. But we don't dispense life or death just because somebody offends us. That's the distinction between men and animals.
Jagger: Oh, well, that's very well said, that's very well said, Mr. Colbey. You tell that to the man who's going to fix my rope. You tell it to the sheriff out there and his deputy. You tell is to townspeople who are going to stand around and watch my eyes bulge out and enjoy my agony. You tell them, you tell them about the difference between men and animals. But you'd better be ready to draw pictures, because this language, they don't just dig!

Chris: And then you go back up to your room the minute this is all over.
Grandma: Of course, Chris, I always follow the rules of the house... unless I don't like them.

Barbara: Mr. Lanser, are you all right?
Carl: Yes, yes, I'm all right. It's just that I have these crazy feelings.
Barbara: What?
Carl: A feeling of doing things, saying things.
Barbara: The feeling that you've done them before?
[Lanser nods]
Barbara: I know that feeling. I've had it occasionally. Being in a room somewhere and being able to swear that you've been there before. Even the conversation will seem identical to another time.
Carl: And the people?
Barbara: Yes, and the people, too.
Carl: How odd. I don't seem to recall. I don't seem to recall getting on this ship or anything else, for that matter. It's suddenly as if I woke up and found myself standing on deck and hearing your voices coming from the salon.
Barbara: Like amnesia.
Carl: No, not really. I know who I am. I'm Carl Lanser. I am Carl Lanser. I was born in Frankurt, Germany. I'm in the...
[goes blank]

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Specie of animal brought back alive. Interesting similarity in physical characteristics to human beings in head, trunk, arms, legs, hands, feet. Very tiny undeveloped brain. Comes from primitive planet named Earth. Calls himself Samuel Conrad. And he will remain here in his cage with the running water and the electricity and the central heat as long as he lives. Samuel Conrad has found The Twilight Zone.

[opening narration]
Narrator: 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 who 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 a more sophisticated approach to the destruction of human freedom. But like every one of the super-states 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 forty-eight hours on Earth. He's a citizen of the State but will soon have to be eliminated, because he's built out of flesh and because he has a mind. Mr. Romney Wordsworth, who will draw his last breaths - in The Twilight Zone.

Mr. Carsville: I remember last November you spent the better part of the days reading campaign buttons on customer's lapels. You'll recall, Mr. Bemis, the young woman who took considerable offense at this and tried to hit you with her umbrella.
Henry: I remember that very well, Mr. Carsville. She never gave me a chance to tell her that I was only looking at who she was voting for.

Patty: Mr. Chambers! Don't get on that ship! The rest of the book, "To Serve Man", it's - it's a cookbook!

Proprietor: He's got a voice on him.
Ernst: I knew it when it was just a whimper.
Proprietor: That's a bad kid, that one. Used to be, used to be people would laugh at him. But lately, he gets the crowds, and not many people laugh either. You've known him a long time, haven't you?
Ernst: Since he was a child. A silent, little boy with very little to say.

Old: Well, all those who wish to play Spaceman raise their hands
[All raise]
Old: All right. And this time, Jenny, you're the Martian.
Jenny: Naw.
Old: Oh, it's your turn.
Jenny: I know but, gee, Ben, I can't turn into things the way YOU can.

[closing narration]
Narrator: Picture of a man with an Achilles' heel, a mystery that landed in his life and then turned into a heavy weight dragged across the years to ultimately take the form of an illusion. Now, that's the clinical answer that they put on the tag as they take him away. But if you choose to think that the explanation has to do with an airborne Flying Dutchman, a ghost ship on a fog-enshrouded night on a flight that never ends, then you're doing your business in an old stand - in The Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [opening narration] The name is Grady, five feet short in stockings and boots, a slightly distorted offshoot of a good breed of humans who race horses. He happens to be one of the rotten apples, bruised and yellowed by dealing in dirt, a short man with a short memory who's forgotten that he's worked for the sport of kings and helped turn it into a cesspool, used and misused by the two-legged animals who've hung around sporting events since the days of the Colosseum. So this is Grady, on his last night as a jockey. Behind him are Hialeah, Hollywood Park and Saratoga. Rounding the far turn and coming up fast on the rail - is The Twilight Zone.

Henry: [sitting at the bar in his Santa costume] Why do you suppose there isn't really a Santa Clause?

Henry: What's going on here? Where am I?
Mr. Pip: Mr. Valentine, do you remember when we met earlier today? I told you I was in a sense, your guide and you said you needed a guide like a hole in the head.
Henry: Yeah.
Mr. Pip: Well, as a matter of strict fact, you had a hole in the head only a short time before: a bullet hole.
Henry: Yeah, that's right. The cops, they... Then I must... I must be dead!
Mr. Pip: Mmm-hmm.
Henry: If I'm dead, then all of this, the joint, the clothes and the booze, then I must be in heaven. Yeah! That's it! That's it! I'm in heaven, right? And you're my guardian angel, something like that?
Mr. Pip: Oh, something like that. Yes, Mr. Valentine.

Narrator: [closing narration] The chancellor, the *late* chancellor, was only partly correct: He *was* obsolete; but so is the State, the entity he worshiped. Any state or entity becomes obsolete when it stockpiles the wrong weapons: when it captures nations, but not minds; when it enslaves millions, yet convinces nobody; when it dons armor and calls it faith, when in the eyes of God it is naked, having no faith at all. Any state, any entity, any ideology that fails to recognize the worth, the dignity, the rights of humanity... That state is obsolete. A case to be filed under "M" for Mankind -- in The Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [opening narration] Sports item, circa 1974: Battling Maxo, B2, heavyweight, accompanied by his manager and handler, arrives in Maynard, Kansas, for a scheduled six-round bout. Battling Maxo is a robot, or, to be exact, an android, definition: an automaton resembling a human being. Only these automatons have been permitted in the ring since prizefighting was legally abolished in 1968. This is the story of that scheduled six-round bout, more specifically the story of two men shortly to face that remorseless truth: that no law can be passed which will abolish cruelty or desperate need - nor, for that matter, blind animal courage. Location for the facing of said truth, a small, smoke-filled arena just this side of The Twilight Zone.

Mr. Cox: I'll bet Whitley's taken them all down to the orchard. Come on!
Ben: Look all you want, Mr. Cox, you won't find them.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Professor Ellis Fowler, a gentle, bookish guide to the young, who is about to discover that life still has certain surprises, and that the campus of the Rock Springs School for Boys lies on a direct path to another institution, commonly referred to as the Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Closing Narration] William Benteen, who had prerogatives: he could lead, he could direct, dictate, judge, legislate. It became a habit, then a pattern, and finally a necessity. William Benteen, once a god - now a population of one.

Nathan: I'll be back, Bernie. And I'll keep coming back. Again and again. And I'll get you. So help me, I'll get you.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Sunnyvale Rest, a home for the aged - a dying place and a common children's game called kick-the-can, that will shortly become a refuge for a man who knows he will die in this world, if he doesn't escape into - The Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: On the following morning, Sergeant Paradine and the rest of these men were moved up north to a little town in Pennsylvania, an obscure little place where a battle was brewing, a town called Gettysburg - and this one was fought without the help of the Devil. Small historical note not to be found in any known books, but part of the records - in The Twilight Zone.

Narrator: [Opening Narration] Submitted for your approval, one Max Phillips, a slightly-the-worse-for wear maker of book, whose life has been as drab and undistinguished as a bundle of dirty clothes. And, though it's very late in his day, he has an errant wish that the rest of his life might be sent out to a laundry to come back shiny and clean, this to be a gift of love to a son named Pip. Mr. Max Phillips, Homo sapiens, who is soon to discover that man is not as wise as he thinks - said lesson to be learned in the Twilight Zone.

[closing narration]
Narrator: 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 walk 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 gentlemen in question might try to pull you into - The Twilight Zone.

Norma: You know, Mrs. Bronson, I keep getting this crazy thought. This crazy thought that I'm gonna wake up and... none of this will have happened. I'll wake up in a cool bed. It'll be night outside, and there'll be a wind. Branches rustling, shadows on the sidewalk, a moon. Traffic noises, automobiles, garbage cans, milk bottles... and voices.
Mrs. Bronson: There was a scientist on the radio this morning. He says it'll get a lot hotter, more each day, now that we're moving so close to the sun. And that's why we're... That's why we're...

Narrator: [Opening Narration] Martin Lombard Senescu, a gentle man, the dedicated curator of murderers' row in Ferguson's Wax Museum. He ponders the reasons why ordinary men are driven to commit mass murder. What Mr. Senescu does not know is that the groundwork has already been laid for his own special kind of madness and torment - found only in the Twilight Zone.

Henry: If I gotta stay here another day, I'm gonna go nuts! Look, look. I don't belong in heaven - see? I wanna go to the other place.
Mr. Pip: Heaven? Whatever gave you the idea you were in Heaven, Mr. Valentine? This *is* the other place!
[laughs malevolently as Valentine tries to get out of the room, to no avail]

Alicia: My name's Alicia. What's your name?
James A. Corry: Get out of here. Get out of here! I don't need a machine. Go on, get out of here!
Alicia: My name's Alicia. What's your name?

Wilfred: Tell me, the old boy's in bad shape?
Dr. Samuel Thorne: "The old boy" is dying. Good afternoon!

Don: Don't treat me like I'm a retarded child!

Secretary: What's the suggestion this time, McNulty? If you haven't got one, I've got one for you: Why don't you... jump off... a bridge!

Mr. Death: [Lou took advantage of their bargain and is attempting to flee] Mr. Bookman! It won't just end here, you understand? There'll be consequences, you see.
Lou: FYI. That means For Your Information. You made your bed and you shall have to sleep in it. We made a bargain that I don't have to go until I make a pitch and you'll have to wait till I make that pitch. I can say this without the least fear of contradiction: have you got a long wait!
[chuckles]
Mr. Death: That may well be, Mr. Bookman. But since you won't come with me, I've been forced to select an alternative.
[outside, a woman screams in anguish at the sound of a vehicle hitting someone]

Woodrow: [chasing a boy on skates, riding a bike] JUVENILE DELINQUENT!

Flora: Franklin, that's the third time you've cashed a check.
Franklin: I know that.
Flora: Well, you've spent a great deal of money.
Franklin: I know that too.
Flora: Don't you think you ought to stop now?
Franklin: How can I stop? I lost a great deal of money. You said it yourself. I've got to win it back.
Flora: But what if you don't? What if you don't win it back, Franklin? You've been standing here nearly 3 hours.
Franklin: Yes, I know that too.
Flora: Franklin, dear, you know how awful you feel in the morning after you've been up too late at night.
Franklin: Flora, will you kindly shut your mouth! I hate a shrew, Flora! I hate a woman who stands in back of you and sees to it that you have miserable luck! And that's what you're doing to me now, Flora! You're giving me miserable luck! Now please go away and leave me alone!

Max: You have to understand this. You have to try and listen and understand. Those times when I wasn't around, and when I was conning, and being a shill or too drunk... and when I dragged you from one rooming house to another...
Young: It doesn't make any difference now, pop.
Max: It makes a difference, Pip. it does make a difference, because I want you to know that no man... oh, listen to me, son. No man ever, ever loved a boy any more than I love you. It was because... well, because I dreamed instead of did, you know? And I wished and hoped instead of tried. But as God as my witness, Pip, I loved you. See, I wouldn't be able to put it into words because there isn't any language. But... but I love you.

Romney: You cannot erase God with an edict!

Narrator: [Closing Narration] Marsha White in her normal and natural state: a wooden lady with a painted face, who, one month out of the year, takes on the characteristics of someone as normal and as flesh and blood as you and I. But it makes you wonder, doesn't it? Just how normal are we? Just who are the people we nod our hellos to as we pass on the street? A rather good question to ask - particularly in The Twilight Zone.

Dr. Bixler: [Points to a photograph of a galaxy] You recognize this, don't you?
Commander: Well, this is our solar system. This is the Sun. And here is the Earth, Jupiter, Venus, Pluto, Mars...
Dr. Bixler: And what do we know about our neighbors, Commander? Mars is a vast, scrubby desert with an unbreathable atmosphere. Pluto is poisonous and extremely cold. The Moon is barren, Jupiter volcanic. In short, Commander, our neighbors offer us only one asset: They're accessible. They're within reach. Beyond that, they offer us nothing. Scientific, social, economic, anything. They're the Mount Everest of space. Once, they offered us challenges.
Commander: Where is the next Mount Everest, Doctor?
Dr. Bixler: That's perhaps the most pertinent question you've ever asked.

Charles: [referring to their childhood] You believed in magic then.
Ben: Me? Magic!
Charles: Yes, you did! When we walked on different sides of a street lamp you'd say 'bread and butter'. And when your baby teeth came out, you put 'em under the pillow for the tooth fairy. Yeah, you believed in magic.

Radio: [Feeling a moment of morbid honesty while reporting the current worldwide situation] Ladies and gentlemen, tomorrow you can fry eggs on sidewalks, heat up soup in the ocean and get help from wandering maniacs, if you choose.

Commander: [Voice over in suspended animation] I remember things. It's more than just void, darkness, or unconsciousness. The mind does work. There are images, patterns, things to recollect. It's not just the long, deep sleep that comes when the fear has left. The cold is felt, the slipping away of feeling is noted and then succumbed to. The mind functions. Time is distorted, jumbled, telescoped, accordioned, but there is a sense of time even so, and I remember things. I remember the way it began. I remember the way it was in the beginning.

Chad: Leveling and drainage have already been started, as well as some preliminary work on the dam itself. Now our time of completion will have to be upped by about three to six months but this shouldn't affect our general cost more than a few thousand dollars in either direction.

[opening narration]
Narrator: Respectfully submitted for your perusal - a Kanamit. Height: a little over nine feet. Weight: in the neighborhood of three hundred and fifty pounds. Origin: unknown. Motives? Therein hangs the tale, for in just a moment, we're going to ask you to shake hands, figuratively, with a Christopher Columbus from another galaxy and another time. This is the Twilight Zone.

Hanford: I'll not sit here and take talk like that.
Paul: No, of course not. You'll go back to your bank, and it'll be business as usual... until next dinnertime, when you'll give us another vacuous speech about enlarging and strengthening countries by filling graveyards. Well, if THIS country shares your devilishly virile sentiments - as I dread it just might - then you're in for some gratifying times, Mr. Hanford. Believe me, there'll be a lot of graveyards for America to fill... and not just her own. We'll show how red our blood is, because we'll spill it. And we'll show how red our neighbors' blood is, because we'll spill that too. Chances are you won't have to spill any yourself, or to be there when all that I've spoken of comes to pass. I simply don't know whether to pity you because of said likelihood, or to envy you for it.

Joey: Hey! Hey, mister!
Gabriel: What is it, Joey?
Joey: I didn't get your name.
Gabriel: How's that?
Joey: Your name! I didn't get your name!
Gabriel: My name? Call me Gabe.
Joey: Gabe?
Gabriel: Gabe. Short for "Gabriel." Bye, Joey.