Wayne Campbell: Will you still love me when I'm in my carbohydrate, sequined-jumpsuit, young-girls-in-white-cotton-panties, waking-up-in-a-pool-of-your-own-vomit, bloated-purple-dead-on-a-toilet phase?
Cassandra: Yeah.
Wayne Campbell: Okay, party. Bonus.

With a bit of luck, his life was ruined forever. Always thinking that just behind some narrow door in all of his favorite bars, men in red woolen shirts are getting incredible kicks from things he'll never know.

Raoul Duke

Jane: Would you like a nightcap?
Frank: No thank you, I don't wear them.

Russell Ziskey: You could join a monastery.
John Winger: Did you ever see a monk get wildly fucked by some teenage girls?
Russell Ziskey: Never.
John Winger: So much for the monastery.

You said to write about what disturbs me, particularly if it bothers no one else.

Eugenia 'Skeeter' Phelan

Vanessa Wetherhold: You should really make your bed. It sets the tone for the day.
Chuck Wetherhold: But, how do you know what tone I was trying to set?

Annie Wilkes: YOU! YOU DIRTY BIRD, HOW COULD YOU!
Paul Sheldon: What?
Annie Wilkes: She can't be dead, MISERY CHASTAIN CANNOT BE DEAD!
Paul Sheldon: Annie, sometimes during childbirth, women don't survive. But Misery's SPIRIT is still alive... we shouldn't forget that.
Annie Wilkes: I DON'T WANT HER SPIRIT! I WANT HER, AND YOU MURDERED HER!
Paul Sheldon: No I didn't.
Annie Wilkes: WHO DID?
Paul Sheldon: She just died, slipped away!
Annie Wilkes: SLIPPED AWAY! NO, YOU MURDERED MY MISERY!

You'll see, I'll show you, that when the chips are down, these uh... civilized people, they'll eat each other.

The Joker

Peter Gibbons: You're gonna lay off Samir and Michael?
Bob Slydell: Oh yeah, we're bring in some entry-level graduates, farm some work out to Singapore, that's the usual deal.
Bob Porter: Standard operating procedure.
Peter Gibbons: Do they know this yet?
Bob Slydell: No. No, of course not. We find it's always better to fire people on a Friday. Studies have statistically shown that there's less chance of an incident if you do it at the end of the week.

[Evie is drunk]
Evelyn: You're wondering, "What is a place like me doing in a girl like this?"
Rick: Yeah, something like that.

Narrator: This is Bob. Bob had bitch tits. This was a support group for men with testicular cancer. The big moosie slobbering all over me... that was Bob.
Robert Paulson: We're still men.
Narrator: Yes, we're men. Men is what we are. Eight months ago, Bob's testicles were removed. Then hormone therapy. He developed bitch tits because his testosterone was too high and his body upped the estrogen. And that was where I fit...
Robert Paulson: They're gonna have to open my pecs again to drain the fluid.
Narrator: Between those huge sweating tits that hung enormous, the way you'd think of God's as big.

The man likes to play chess; let's get him some rocks.

Red

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