True Detective (TV series)

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True Detective is an American television anthology drama series on HBO about the lives of two detectives, Rust Cohle and Martin Hart, that become entangled during a 17-year hunt for a serial killer in Louisiana. The show was created and written by Nic Pizzolatto, with the first season directed by Cary Joji Fukunaga.

Season 1[edit]

The Long Bright Dark [1.1][edit]

Rust: This place is like somebody's memory of a town, and the memory is fading. It's like there was never anything here but jungle.
Marty: Stop saying shit like that. It's unprofessional.

Rust: People out here, it's like they don't even know the outside world exists. Might as well be living on the fucking Moon.
Marty: There's all kinds of ghettos in the world.
Rust: It's all one ghetto man, giant gutter in outer space

Rust: I'd consider myself a realist, alright? But in philosophical terms I'm what's called a pessimist.
Marty: Okay, what's that mean?
Rust: It means I'm bad at parties.
Marty: Let me tell you, you ain't great outside of parties either.

Rust: I think human consciousness is a tragic misstep in evolution. We became too self-aware. Nature created an aspect of nature separate from itself. We are creatures that should not exist by natural law. We are things that labor under the illusion of having a self, that accretion of sensory experience and feelings, programmed with total assurance that we are each somebody, when in fact everybody's nobody. I think the honorable thing for our species to do is to deny our programming. Stop reproducing. Walk hand in hand into extinction. One last midnight, brothers and sisters opting out of a raw deal.
Marty: I got an idea, let's make the car a place of silent reflection from now on. Okay?

Marty: you know I've seen all the different types. We all fit a certain category. The bully... The charmer... The... uh... surrogate dad... the man possessed by ungovernable rage... the brain... and any of those types can be a good detective and any of those types can be an incompetent shitheel.
Maynard: Which type were you?
Marty: Oh, just a regular type dude... with a big ass dick.

Seeing Things [1.2][edit]

Rust: I think about my daughter now, and what she was spared. Sometimes I feel grateful. The doctor said she didn't feel a thing, went straight into a coma. Then, somewhere in that blackness, she slipped off into another deeper kind. Isn't that a beautiful way to go out, painlessly as a happy child? Trouble with dying later is you've already grown up. The damage is done. It's too late.

Rust: You know me. I don't see the connection between two dead cats and a murdered woman. [pause] But I'm from Texas.

Rust: Came close another time... Lorry. Maggie introduced us. It broke off. It was for the best, you know, I gave her cause. I can be hard to live with. I don't mean to, but I can be... critical. [sigh] Sometimes I think I'm just not good for people, that it's not good for them to be around me. I wear 'em down. They... they get unhappy.
Maynard: Hmm... yeah I think the job does that to a lot of guys. Changes ya. Some guys just notice that's all.
Rust: I can't say the job made me this way. More like me being this way made me right for the job. I used to think about it more, but you reach a certain age you know who you are. Now I live in a little room, out in the country behind a bar, work four nights a week, and in between I drink. And there ain't nobody there to stop me. I know who I am. And after all these years, there's a victory in that.

Marty: [Gives money to Beth] Do something else.
Rust: That a down payment?
Marty: Is shitting on any moment of decency part of your job description?

[Rust sniffs]
Marty: What?
Rust: You wash up, you got some pussy on ya.
Marty: Key to a healthy marriage.
Rust: Oh, that's Maggie, huh?
Marty: Hey! What's with your fucking nose?
Rust: Nothing man, sorry, forget it.
Marty: I get a connotation being implied here... about my wife?
Rust: Are you saying that's your wife? That high tide you're walking in with?
Marty: [Angrily slams Rust into a locker] You got some idea how my wife's pussy is supposed to smell?
Rust: No, I just meant you're wearing the same clothes as you did yesterday. [slowly grabs Martin's wrists] Coupled with the fact that I ain't stupid. Wasn't making no comment as to the particularity of the scent.
Marty: You don't say fuck-all about my wife... don't say her name!
Rust: You got some self loathing to do this morning, that's fine, but it ain't worth loosing your hands over.
Marty: How would that work exactly?
Rust: I'd just apply a couple of pounds of pressure. [tightens the grip on Martin's wrists] Snap your wrists. You're senior detective, think I'm lying?

The Locked Room [1.3][edit]

Rust: What do you think the average IQ of this group is, huh?
Detective: Can you see Texas up there on your high horse? What do you know about these people?
Rust: Just observation and deduction. I see a propensity for obesity. Poverty. A yen for fairy tales. Folks puttin' what few bucks they do have into a little wicker basket being passed around. I think it's safe to say nobody here's gonna be splitting the atom, Marty.
Marty: You see that. Your fucking attitude. Not everybody wants to sit alone in an empty room beating off to murder manuals. Some folks enjoy community. A common good.
Rust: Yeah, well if the common good's gotta make up fairy tales then it's not good for anybody.

Rust: Transference of fear and self-loathing to an authoritarian vessel. It's catharsis. He absorbs their dread with his narrative. Because of this, he's effective at proportion to the amount of certainty he can project. Certain linguistic anthropologists think that religion is a language virus that rewrites pathways in the brain. Dulls critical thinking.
Marty: Well, I don't use ten dollar words as much as you, but for a guy who sees no point in existence, you sure fret about it an awful lot. And you still sound panicked.
Rust: At least I'm not racing to a red light.

Marty: I mean, can you imagine if people didn't believe, what things they'd get up to?
Rust: Exact same thing they do now. Just out in the open.
Marty: Bullshit. It'd be a fucking freak show of murder and debauchery and you know it.
Rust: If the only thing keeping a person decent is the expectation of divine reward, then brother that person is a piece of shit; and I'd like to get as many of them out in the open as possible.
Marty: Well, I guess your judgment is infallible, piece-of-shit-wise. You think that notebook is a stone tablet?
Rust: What's it say about life, hmm? You gotta get together, tell yourself stories that violate every law of the universe just to get through the god damn day. Nah. What's that say about your reality, Marty?

Rust: This... This is what I'm talking about. This is what I mean when I'm talkin' about time, and death, and futility. all right there are broader ideas at work, mainly what is owed between us as a society for our mutual illusions. 14 straight hours of staring at DB's, these are the things ya think of. You ever done that? You look in their eyes, even in a picture, doesn't matter if they're dead or alive, you can still read 'em. You know what you see? They welcomed it... not at first, but... right there in the last instant. It's an unmistakable relief. See, cause they were afraid, and now they saw for the very first time how easy it was to just... let go. Yeah They saw, in that last nanosecond, they saw... what they were. You, yourself, this whole big drama, it was never more than a jerry-rig of presumption and dumb will, and you could just let go. To finally know that you didn't have to hold on so tight. To realize that all your life--you know, all your love, all your hate, all your memories, all your pain--it was all the same thing. It was all the same dream, a dream that you had inside a locked room, a dream about being a person. And like a lot of dreams, there's a monster at the end of it.

Marty: Do you wonder ever if you're a bad man?
Rust: No. I don't wonder, Marty. World needs bad men. We keep the other bad men from the door.

Who Goes There [1.4][edit]

Marty: Every time I think you've hit a ceiling, you, you keep raising the bar. You're like the Michael Jordan of being a son of a bitch.

Marty: Fuuuck! Hell of a bedside manner you've got, Rust.
Rust: Ahh, you know, being stupid is different than going in sick, and this is a bar, not a fuckin' bedside.

Rust: [to Marty] All the dick swagger you roll, you can't spot crazy pussy?

Rust: [to Marty] So, enough with the self-improvement-penance-hand-wringing shit. Let's go to work.

The Secret Fate of All Life [1.5][edit]

Marty: Do you know the good years when you're in them, or do you just wait for them until you get ass cancer?

Marty: What always happens between men and women? Reality.

Rust: In eternity, where there is no time, nothing can grow. Nothing can become. Nothing changes. So Death created time to grow the things that it would kill and you are reborn but into the same life that you've always been born into. I mean, how many times have we had this conversation, detectives? Well, who knows? When you can't remember your lives, you can't change your lives, and that is the terrible and the secret fate of all life. You're trapped by that nightmare you keep waking up into.

Haunted Houses [1.6][edit]

Beth: [on the phone to Martin] I really wanted to see you. I've been thinking about something all week. I think...I want you to fuck me in my ass. [pause] I've never done that before, but I think I want you to do it to me.

Maggie: There's no such thing as forgiveness. People just have short memories.

Rust: [to Marty] Without me, there is no you.

Rust: I quit.
Major Salter: You serious?
Rust: I'll send you a letter. Yeah. Fuck this. Fuck this world. Nice hook, Marty.

Marty: A man's game charges a man's price. Take that away from this, if nothing else.

After You're Gone [1.7][edit]

Rust: Life's barely long enough to get good at one thing. So be careful what you get good at.

Marty: Hey. You better get those jumper cables ready, the motherfucker is lying.

Marty: You know, you know what, I don't think I've been very clear with you Rust. If you were drowning, I'd throw you a fuckin' barbell.

Rust: [to Maggie] Get on out of here, you're classin' the place up.

Form and Void [1.8][edit]

Rust: Look, as sentient meat, however illusory our identities are, we craft those identities by making value judgments: everybody judges, all the time. Now, you got a problem with that... You're livin' wrong.

Rust: What are you doing here?
Marty: Nothing. Nurse said I could come in.
Rust: Are you watching me sleep?
Marty: You know what, I just got here. I was gonna leave, but then you woke up. Jesus, what's your fucking problem.
Rust: Nothing much of a problem.
Marty: Not a care in the world.

Rust: We didn't get em all.
Marty: Yeah and we ain't gonna get em all. That ain't what kind of world it is, but we got ours.
Rust: I'm not supposed to be here.
Marty: Yea... well, I'll come back by tomorrow buddy.
Rust: Why?
Marty: Don't ever change man.

Rust: Once there was only dark. If you ask me, the light's winning.


Season 1[edit]

External links[edit]

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