Lady Murasaki Shikibu: Stop now. Forgive them.
Hannibal Lecter: Never!

C'mon Meat, throw me that weak-ass shit!

Crash Davis

I believe in Holden Caulfield. And in the book, and what he was saying, what he was saying to a lost generation of phony people.

Mark David Chapman

Marlin: I can't afford any more delays and you're one of those fish that causes delays. Sometimes it's a good thing. There's a whole group of fish. They're delay fish.
Dory: You mean... You mean you don't like me?
Marlin: No, of course I like you. It's because I like you I don't want to be with you. It's a complicated emotion.

Bill: [slightly drunk] When you didn't come back, I naturally assumed that Lisa Wong or somebody else had killed you. Oh, and for the record, letting someone think that someone they love is dead when they're not is quite cruel. I mourned you for three months. And in the third month of mourning you... I tracked you down. Now, I wasn't trying to track you down. I was trying to track down the fucking assholes who I thought killed you. So, I find you. And what do I find? Not only are you not dead, you're getting married to some fucking jerk and you're pregnant. I... overreacted.
The Bride: You overreacted?

Marlin: Hey. Guess what?
Nemo: What?
Marlin: Sea turtles? I met one, and he was 150 years old.
Nemo: A hundred and fifty?
Marlin: Yup.
Nemo: Oh. 'Cause Sandy Plankton said that they only live to be a hundred.
Marlin: Sandy Plankton? You think I would travel the whole ocean and not know as much as Sandy Plankton? He was a 150, not a hundred.

I'm going to enjoy watching you die, Mr. Anderson.

Agent Smith

We have to show the world that not all of us are like him. Otherwise, this will always be Hitler's Germany.

Henning von Tresckow

Crash Davis: Come on, Annie, think of something clever to say, huh? Something full of magic, religion, bullshit. Come on, dazzle me.
Annie Savoy: I want you.

[Jane climbs a ladder]
Frank: Nice beaver!
Jane: [producing a stuffed beaver] Thank you. I just had it stuffed.

David Mills: Hey, loser.
Tracy Mills: Hi, idiot.

[Shooter's ball lands on Mr. Larson's foot]
Mr. Larson: That's two thus far, Shooter.
Shooter McGavin: Oh, you can count. Good for you.
Mr. Larson: And *you* can count, on *me* -- waiting for *you* in the parking lot.
Crowd: Ooooooh.

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