We're the police. We can do whatever the hell we want.

Tom Ludlow

Coach Boone: Gary, if you want to play on this football team, you answer me when I ask you who's your Daddy. Who's your Daddy, Gary? Who's your Daddy?
Bertier: You.

Now you listen to me, I'm an advertising man, not a red herring. I've got a job, a secretary, a mother, two ex-wives and several bartenders that depend upon me, and I don't intend to disappoint them all by getting myself "slightly" killed.

Roger Thornhill

Alright. Well, in all honesty, I don't feel that what I've done is a crime. I think it's illogical and irresponsible for you to sentence me to prison. Because, when you think about it, what did I really do? I crossed an imaginary line with a bunch of plants. I mean, you say I'm an outlaw, you say I'm a thief, but where's the Christmas dinner for the people on relief? Huh? You say you're looking for someone who's never weak but always strong, to gather flowers constantly whether you are right or wrong, someone to open each and every door, but it ain't me, babe, huh? No, no, no, it ain't me, babe. It ain't me you're looking for, babe. You follow?

George

Chip Douglas: Here is a comment card. Please mail it in when I am done.
Steven Kovacs: Does this go to your boss?
Chip Douglas: No it goes to me, I'm sort of a perfectionis... perfectionis... t.

[last lines]
Jessica Martin: I don't know if there's anything I could ever do to thank you
Ryan: I do. Don't ever call me again.

If I had known I was gonna meet the president, I would've worn a tie. Look at me, I look like a schliemiel.

Julius Levinson

Carol: [John turns off the radio] Why did you do that?
John Milner: I don't like that surfin' shit. Rock and roll's been going down hill ever since Buddy Holly died.
Carol: Don't you think the Beach Boys are boss?
John Milner: You would, you grungy little twirp.
Carol: Grungy? You big weenie! If I had a boyfriend, he'd pound you.
John Milner: Yeah, sure.

Jesus Paul! Why don't you just fucking rape me?

Macha

Chemist: Blast off: one-eight-oh. Two hundred: Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval. Two ten: U.S. Government certified. Two twenty: lunar trajectory, junk of the month club, sirloin steak. Two thirty: Grade A poison. Absolute dynamite. Eighty-nine percent pure junk. Best I've ever seen. If the rest is like this, you'll be dealing on this load for two years.
Joel Weinstock: So you say it's worth half a million?
Chemist: How many kilos?
Salvatore "Sal" Boca: Sixty.
Chemist: Sixty kilos, eight big ones per kilo, right? This stuff will take a seven to one hit on the street.
Salvatore "Sal" Boca: And by the time it gets down to nickel bags, it will be worth at least thirty-two million.
Joel Weinstock: Thank you, Howard. Take what's left there with you and good night.

I need you... to be human again. I need you here.

Taya Renae Kyle

[into shaky camera] My name is Robert Hawkins. Approximately seven hours ago some *thing* attacked the city. If you found this, if you're watching this then you probably know more about it than I do.

Rob

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