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My moviegoing friend pointed out this piece on Heath Ledger by Mary Elizabeth Williams of  Salon.

"When I remember him -- a word that still doesn't sound real or right yet -- I will see a montage in my mind of indelible on-screen moments. I'll see him, blissfully bored, waving his hand through a Bunsen burner flame in "10 Things I Hate About You." I'll see him clutching a bloodstained shirt in "Brokeback Mountain," his face crumpled in haunted longing. I'll see him declaring his love with his last, self-destructive breath in "Monster's Ball." I'll see a flawless face that conveyed the rage, loss, menace and profound ardor of such fascinating, flawed characters. And I will be desolate and disappointed and angry as hell that there will be no more new moments to come."

Right on.

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