Dear Mrs. Bullock,
Your house is near finished. My satisfaction does not exceed the camp’s lumbermen and sawyers whose patience I have tried by my over watchful eye for greenness and for good square edge quality in the cut boards. I’ve chosen pine, one-year seasoned, for the sills, posts, floor joists and rafters. The other framing timbers is of spruce. Where partitions bear upon them, I have doubled the beams and supported the floor with locus posts set three feet into the ground. I think you may laugh to see the mullioned windows with their view of the camp from out the parlor. Being unfinished, they look like unfocused eyes. I’ve left these and all final decorative choices to your superior judgment and sensibility. I hope that you and the boy may arrive in good health and safety. I look forward to our opportunity to better get to know each other. I pray that in my brother’s stead, I may be permitted to be a father to the boy as good as Robert would have been, and as to your care and comfort and safety, as good a husband to you.
Yours sincerely, Seth Bullock.
- Some goddamned time, a man’s due to stop arguing with hisself, feeling he’s twice the goddamn fool he knows he is, because he can’t be something he tries to be every goddamn day without once getting to dinnertime and not fucking it up. I don’t wanna fight it no more. Understand me, Charlie? And I don’t want you pissing in my ear about it. Can you let me go to hell the way I want to?
- Yeah. I can do that.
DEADWOOD | Here Was a Man
It is no disloyalty to be a realist, Richardson. We are mortal. One hopes for the best. One perseveres. One reevaluates constantly. One is an asshole if one doesn’t. Loyalty expanded is not loyalty betrayed. I contemplate no disloyalty to Al Swearengen. I feel exposed. I don’t like being weak, and I know that I am. I yearn to rely on a stronger will. I fear what I’m capable of in its absence.
requiem for a gleet - 2x04
I’ve wished sometimes only to play checkers or to occupy myself some other way than having to see and feel so much sadness, or feel every moment how difficult things are, to understand or to live with. I’ve sometimes felt I couldn’t live with them, but I find I can, Sofia. I’ve found I am, even when I think I’m not or that I can’t. Can you look to me now, Sofia? Can you try? I will be so grateful if you will trust me with your sadness, and I will trust you with mine, so that even when we are sad we will be grateful for how much we love each other, and know that we are in the world as much in our pain as in our happiness.
Sol Star: I’m sensing you’ve done things today you wish you could amend, Seth.
Seth Bullock: What kind of man have I become, Sol?
Sol Star: I don’t know. The day ain’t fucking over.
Sold under Sin — Deadwood 1x12