Holly Gennero McClane: I have a request.
Hans Gruber: What idiot put you in charge?
Holly Gennero McClane: You did. When you murdered my boss. Now everyone's looking to me. Personally, I'd pass on the job. I don't enjoy being this close to you.

Convenience Store Clerk: I thought you guys just ate doughnuts.
Sergeant Al Powell: Heh. They're for my wife.

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.

Now I know what a TV dinner feels like.

John McClane

No one kills him but me! Understood?

Karl

Holly Gennero McClane: After all your posturing, all your speeches, you're nothing but a common thief.
Hans Gruber: I am an exceptional thief, Mrs. McClane. And since I'm moving up to kidnapping, you should be more polite.

Hans Gruber: Mister Mystery Guest? Are you still there?
John McClane: Yeah, I'm still here. Unless you wanna open the front door for me.
Hans Gruber: Uh, no I'm afraid not. But you have me at a loss. You know my name but who are you? Just another American who saw too many movies as a child? Another orphan of a bankrupt culture who thinks he's John Wayne? Rambo? Marshall Dillon?
John McClane: Was always kinda' partial to Roy Rogers actually. I really dig those sequined shirts.

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.

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.

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

Sergeant Al Powell: The man is hurting! He's alone, tired, and he hasn't seen diddly-squat from anybody down here. Now you're going to stand there and tell me that he's going to give a damn about what you do to him, IF he makes it out of there alive? Why don't you wake up and smell what you're shoveling?
Dwayne T. Robinson: Now you listen to me, Sergeant. Any time you want to go home, you consider yourself dismissed.
Sergeant Al Powell: No sir. You couldn't drag me away.

FBI Special Agent Johnson: Figure we take out the terrorists. Lose twenty, twenty-five percent of the hostages.
FBI Agent Johnson: I can live with that.

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