Cliegg Lars: It was just before dawn. They came out of nowhere. A hunting party of Tusken Raiders. Your mother had gone out early, like she always did, to pick mushrooms that grow on the vaporators. From the tracks, she was about halfway home when they took her. Those Tuskens walk like men, but they're vicious, mindless monsters. Thirty of us went out after her. Four of us came back. I'd be with them, only... after I lost my leg I just couldn't ride any more... until I heal. I don't want to give up on her, but she's been gone a month. There's little hope she's lasted this long.
Owen Lars: Where are you going?
Anakin: To find my mother.
Cliegg Lars: Your mother's dead, son. Accept it.

Officer Martone: [notices the jail door keys in the jail door, and Jackson sitting inside the cell reading a book] Hey, Jackson's trying to escape!
Tarik: What are you talking about? I'm just sitting here.
Officer Reilly: He's trying to break free! Get him!
Tarik: Aw, shit.
[gets up and spread eagles on the cell wall, while still holding the book in one hand]
Officer Martone: Don't move. Stop resisting! We need back up now! He's got a gun!
Tarik: That's not a gun, that's a book.
Officer Reilly: Secure the book!
Officer Palumbo: Book is secure. You bring this filth
[book is on human rights]
Officer Palumbo: in here? What is this shit?

Brandi: Suitor number 3, is your kiss like a soft breeze, a firm handshake or a jackhammer?
Gil Hicks: Definitely a jackhammer, I'm in there with some pressure and when I'm done, you're not the same as before. You're changed.
Brodie: Where do you come up with this shit? That's the cheesiest response to an honest question I have ever heard. I saw you kiss and it wasn't anything like that.
Bob Summers: [Chuckling] Suitor #2, you'll have to wait until you're addressed before you respond.
Brodie: Richard Dawson, why don't you just go back to your podium until it's time to play The Feud. All right?
[Audience laughs]
Gil Hicks: Who the hell did you see me kiss?
Brodie: Some dude backstage. I don't know who he was but he seemed unimpressed.
Gil Hicks: I didn't kiss any guy backstage. I swear. I'm not gay.
Brodie: Hey, Suitorette, this guys a homophobe. You heard how repulsed he sounded. Is this the kind of guy you want to spend a vacation with? This hate-monger?
Gil Hicks: I don't hate gay people.
Brodie: So you love them?
Gil Hicks: Yes. I mean no.
Brodie: Textbook closet case self-loather. Can't be comfortable with his own sexuality.

How long could we maintain? I wondered. How long until one of us starts raving and jabbering at this boy? What will he think then? This same lonely desert was the last known home of the Manson family; will he make that grim connection when my attorney starts screaming about bats and huge manta rays coming down on the car? If so, well, we'll just have to cut his head off and bury him somewhere, 'cause it goes without saying that we can't turn him loose. He'd report us at once to some kind of outback Nazi law enforcement agency and they'll run us down like dogs. Jesus, did I say that? Or just think it? Was I talking? Did they hear me?

Raoul Duke

John Wick: How good's your laundry?
Charon: No one's that good.
John Wick: I thought not.

I love you, and I need a piss.


Meet you in Malkovich in one hour.


Jason Bourne: Who has a safety deposit box full of... money and six passports and a gun? Who has a bank account number in their hip? I come in here, and the first thing I'm doing is I'm catching the sightlines and looking for an exit.
Marie: I see the exit sign, too, I'm not worried. I mean, you were shot. People do all kinds of weird and amazing stuff when they are scared.

Everybody remember, Lincoln Center and its ilk use these competitions to decide who they are interested in and who they are not. And I am not gonna have my reputation in that department tarnished by a bunch of fucking limp-dick, sour-note, flatter-than-their-girlfriends, flexible-tempo dipshits. Got it?

Terence Fletcher

Aileen: So where's your friends?
Selby: Well... Uh... I'm not...
Aileen: [laughs]
Selby: You're mean!

Ralston: Man, whatever you do, don't stare.
Chris McConnell: Look, I'm not gonna stare, come on.
Jerry: None of us would. But you get there, and you feel yourself not staring.
Ralston: Then you think, "it's obvious I'm not staring." So you look, and you think, "I'm staring." So you say, "this is ridiculous," and you take a GOOD LOOK. And you think, "I'm looking at a man who, when he washes his face, loses the bar of soap."
Chris McConnell: [laughs] Thanks guys, all right.
Ralston: Don't say we didn't warn you.

Union Soldier: Give 'em Hell, 54!
All: Give 'em Hell, 54!

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