Sideways Quotes

Maya: You know, can I ask you a personal question, Miles?
Miles Raymond: Sure.
Maya: Why are you so in to Pinot?
Miles Raymond: [laughs softly]
Maya: I mean, it's like a thing with you.
Miles Raymond: [continues laughing softly]
Miles

Raymond: Uh, I don't know, I don't know. Um, it's a hard grape to grow, as you know. Right? It's uh, it's thin-skinned, temperamental, ripens early. It's, you know, it's not a survivor like Cabernet, which can just grow anywhere and uh, thrive even when it's neglected. No, Pinot needs constant care and attention. You know? And in fact it can only grow in these really specific, little,

tucked away corners of the world. And, and only the most patient and nurturing of growers can do it, really. Only somebody who really takes the time to understand Pinot's potential can then coax it into its fullest expression. Then, I mean, oh its flavors, they're just the most haunting and brilliant and thrilling and subtle and... ancient on the planet.

Miles Raymond: I'm finished. I'm not a writer, I'm a middle school English teacher. Well, the world doesn't give a shit what I have to say. I'm unnecessary. Ha! I'm so insignificant I can't even kill myself.
Jack: Miles, what the hell is that supposed to mean?
Miles Raymond: Come on, man. You know. Hemingway, Sexton, Plath, Woolf.

You can't kill yourself before you're even published!
Jack: What about the guy who wrote Confederacy of Dunces? He committed suicide before he was published. Look how famous he is!
Miles Raymond: Thanks.
Jack: Just don't give up, alright? You're gonna make it.
Miles Raymond: Half my life is over and I

have nothing to show for it. Nothing. I'm a thumbprint on the window of a skyscraper. I'm a smudge of excrement on a tissue surging out to sea with a million tons of raw sewage.
Jack: See? Right there. Just what you just said. That is beautiful. 'A smudge of excrement... surging out to sea.'
Miles Raymond: Yeah.
Jack: I could

never write that.
Miles Raymond: Neither could I, actually. I think it's Bukowski.

Miles Raymond: What about you?
Maya: What about me?
Miles Raymond: I don't know. Why are you into wine?
Maya: Oh I... I think I... I originally got in to wine through my ex-husband.
Miles Raymond: Ah.
Maya: You know, he had this big, sort of show-off cellar, you

know.
Miles Raymond: Right.
Maya: But then I discovered that I had a really sharp palate.
Miles Raymond: Uh-huh.
Maya: And the more I drank, the more I liked what it made me think about.
Miles Raymond: Like what?
Maya: Like what a fraud he was.

[Miles laughs softly]
Maya: No, I- I like to think about the life of wine.
Miles Raymond: Yeah.
Maya: How it's a living thing. I like to think about what was going on the year the grapes were growing; how the sun was shining; if it rained. I like to think about all the people who tended and picked the grapes. And if it's an

old wine, how many of them must be dead by now. I like how wine continues to evolve, like if I opened a bottle of wine today it would taste different than if I'd opened it on any other day, because a bottle of wine is actually alive. And it's constantly evolving and gaining complexity. That is, until it peaks, like your '61. And then it begins its steady, inevitable decline.
Miles

Raymond: Hmm.
Maya: And it tastes so fucking good.

[last lines]
Maya: [on answering machine] Hello, Miles. It's Maya. Thanks for your letter. I-I would have called sooner, but I think I needed some time to think about everything that happened and... what you wrote to me. Another reason, um, I didn't call you sooner is because I wanted to finish your book, which I finally did last night. And I think it's really lovely,

Miles. You're so good with words. Who cares if it's not getting published? There are so many beautiful and... painful things about it. Did you really go through all that? Must have been awful. And the sister character - jeez, what a wreck. But I have to say that, well, I was really confused by the ending. I mean, did the father finally commit suicide, or what? It's driving me crazy. Anyway, it's

turned cold and rainy here lately, but I like winter. So, listen, if you ever do decide to come up here again, you should let me know. I would say stop by the restaurant, but to tell you the truth, I'm not sure how much longer I'm gonna be working there, because I'm going to graduate soon. So, I'll probably want to relocate. I mean, we'll see. Anyway, like I said, I really loved your novel. Don't

give up, Miles. Keep writing. I hope you're well. Bye.

Jack: Listen, man. Cammi gets off in an hour, so I was thinking I'd just hang around and have a drink, and make sure she gets home safe.
Miles Raymond: You're joking, right?
Jack: No.
Miles Raymond: Un-fucking-believable. Can't we just... go back to the motel... and hang out... and get up early, play 9 holes

of golf... before we head home?
Jack: [puts his hand on Miles' shoulder] Listen, man. You're my friend, and I know you care about me. And I know you disapprove, and I respect that. But there are some things that I have to do that you don't understand. You understand literature, movies, wine... but you don't understand my plight.

Jack: Yo! Yo! Here's my boy! Here's my boy! But who's your daddy? Now who is your daddy?
Miles Raymond: Put me down, Jack.
Jack: I'm so proud of you! Let me love you! So tell me everything. Details. I like details.
Miles Raymond: No.
Jack: What?
Miles Raymond:

It's private.
Jack: You're kidding, right? Tell me what happened, you fucker, or I'll tie your dick in a knot.
Miles Raymond: Let's leave it alone.
Jack: You didn't get any, did you? You're a homo.

Jack: I might be in love with another woman.
Miles Raymond: In love? Really? 24 hours with some wine-pourer chick and you're fucking in love? Come on! And you're gonna give up everything?
Jack: Here's what I'm thinking: you and me, we move up here, we buy a vineyard. You design the wine; I'll handle the business side. You get

inspired, maybe write another novel, one that can sell.
Miles Raymond: Oh, my God. No, no.
Jack: As for me, if an audition comes up, LA's right there, man. It's two hours away, not even.
Miles Raymond: Jesus Christ, you're crazy. You're crazy. You've gone crazy.
Jack: All I know is that I'm an actor.

All I have is my instinct. You're asking me to go against it.

Mike Erganian: What is the subject of your book? Non fiction?
Miles Raymond: Uh, no. It's... it's a novel. Fiction. Yes. Although there is quite a bit from my own life... so I suppose that, technically some of it is nonfiction.
Mike Erganian: Good I like non fiction. There is so much to know about this world. I think you read

something somebody just invented, waste of time.
Miles Raymond: That's an interesting perspective.

Miles Raymond: Let me show you how this is done. First thing, hold the glass up and examine the wine against the light. You're looking for color and clarity. Just, get a sense of it. OK? Uhh, thick? Thin? Watery? Syrupy? OK? Alright. Now, tip it. What you're doing here is checking for color density as it thins out towards the rim. Uhh, that's gonna tell you how old it is, among

other things. It's usually more important with reds. OK? Now, stick your nose in it. Don't be shy, really get your nose in there. Mmm... a little citrus... maybe some strawberry...
[smacks lips]
Miles Raymond: ... passion fruit...
[puts hand up to ear]
Miles Raymond: ... and, oh, there's just like the faintest soupçon of like asparagus

and just a flutter of a, like a, nutty Edam cheese...
Jack: Wow. Strawberries, yeah! Strawberries. Not the cheese...