Billy: You're gonna talk to me about style? You can't even dress yourself... look at that bow tie.
Dewey Finn: Don't you be talkin' about my bow tie.

Hold on! No fucking way! You fuckin' notice this? I got fuckin' shot! I got fuckin' shot in the face! I went and got the fuckin' money; I got shot fuckin' picking it up. I've been up for thirty-six fucking hours! I'm taking' that fuckin' car! That fucker's mine! You fucking asshole!

Carl Showalter

I'm telling you, that chick is probably a bigger germ farm than that monkey in Outbreak.

Banky Edwards

You're a bit of a puzzlement to me these days, Wendell. You don't seem to be your old cruel self anymore. And I had such grand plans for your future.

Captain Dudley Smith

[while waiting on a very tardy psychic] You would he'd be able to predict that the traffic is going to be bad.

Micah

I married Rambo!

Helen Tasker

Jimmy Smith Jr: Yo man, lets get the fuck outta here, I need some privacy man.
Cheddar Bob: Can I come?

Reepicheep: We were expecting someone taller!
Trumpkin: You're one to talk.
Reepicheep: Is that supposed to be irony?

[upon learning Woody has "won" a million dollars] I never knew the son of a bitch even wanted to be a millionaire! He should have thought about that years ago and worked for it!

Kate Grant

Garth: Wayne, we don't wanna end the movie this way, do we?
Wayne: Good call. Let's do the "Thelma and Louise" ending!

Lt. Frank Drebin: Have you noticed anything different about him?
Jane Spencer: Well, only that he's a foot taller, and he seems to be left handed now... Frank, what are you trying to tell me? That Quentin has somehow found an exact double for Dr. Mainheimer and that tomorrow that double will give a fraudulent report to the president?
Lt. Frank Drebin: Why that's brilliant, that's a lot better than what I came up with.

Begbie: Did you bring the cards?
Sick Boy: What?
Begbie: The cards, the last thing I told you was to mind the cards!
Sick Boy: Well, I've not brought them.
Begbie: It's fucking boring after a while without the cards.
Sick Boy: I'm sorry.
Begbie: Bit fucking late, like.
Sick Boy: Why didn't *you* bring them?
Begbie: 'CAUSE I FUCKING TOLD YOU TO BRING THEM, YOU DOSS CUNT!
Sick Boy: ...Christ.

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