Dwayne T. Robinson: I got a hundred people down here and they're all covered in glass.
John McClane: Glass? Who gives a shit about glass? Who the fuck is this?
Dwayne T. Robinson: This is Deputy Chief Dwayne T. Robinson, and I am in charge here.
John McClane: Oh you're in charge? Well I got news for you *Dwayne*, from up here it doesn't look like you're in charge of jack shit.
Dwayne T. Robinson: You listen to me you little asshole.
John McClane: Asshole? I'm not the one who just got butt-fucked on national TV, Dwayne.

Argyle: So, why didn't you come with her man? What's up?
John McClane: 'Cause I'm a New York cop. I got a six-month backlog on New York scumbags I'm still trying to put behind bars. I can't just pick up and go that easy.

[before jumping] I promise I will never even THINK about going up in a tall building again. Oh, God. Please don't let me die.

John McClane

Ooops, no bullets. What do you think, I'm fucking stupid, Hans?

John McClane

Hans: Put down the gun, and give me my detonators.
John McClane: Well, well, well... Hans.
Hans: Put it down now.
John McClane: That was pretty tricky with that accent. You oughta be on fucking TV with that accent. But what do you want with the detonators, Hans? I already used all the explosives. Or did I?

Mr. Takagi, I could talk about men's fashion and industrialization all day but I'm afraid work must intrude, and my associate Theo has some questions for you, sort of fill in the blanks questions...

Hans

Hans: Touching, Cowboy. Touching. Or should I call you Mr McClane? Mr. Officer John McClane of the New York Police Department?
John McClane: Sister Teresa called me Mr. McClane in the Third Grade. My friends call me John... and you're neither shithead.

John McClane: Drop it, dickhead. It's the police.
Tony: You're not going to hurt me.
John McClane: Oh, yeah? Why not?
Tony: Because you're a policeman. There are rules for policemen.
John McClane: Yeah. That's what my captain keeps telling me.

No one kills him but me! Understood?

Karl

Karl: They're using artillery on us!
Hans Gruber: You idiot, it's not the police. It's *him*!

John McClane: These guys are mostly European judging by their clothing labels and their... cigarettes. They're well-financed and very slick.
Sergeant Al Powell: Well, now how do you know that?
John McClane: I've seen enough phony ID's in my time to know that the ones they got must have cost a fortune. Add all that up, I don't know what the fuck it means, but you got some bad-ass perpetrators and they're here to stay.
Sergeant Al Powell: I hear ya, partner. And L.A.'s finest are on it.

When they land we blow up the roof, they spend a month sifting through rubble, and by the time they work out what went wrong, we'll be sitting on a beach, earning twenty percent.

Hans Gruber

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