Al Powell: What's this about?
John McClane: Oh, just a feeling I have.
Al Powell: Ouch. When you get those feelings, insurance companies start to go bankrupt.

John McClane: That punk pulled a Glock 7 on me. You know what that is? It's a porcelain gun made in Germany. It dosen't show up on you airport X-ray machines, and it cost more than you make here in a month.
Carmine Lorenzo: You'd be a surprised what I make in a month.
John McClane: If it was more than a dollar ninety-eight I'd be surprised.

Carmine Lorenzo: Hey, you gave us that fuckin' body, McClane, remember that.
John McClane: Yeah, I do.

Trudeau: What the hell is that supposed to mean? I know we're all dummies up here, McClane, but give us a little taste of your brilliant genius! What are we talking about, a hijacking -
John McClane: I don't know -
Carmine Lorenzo: Oh, he's not sure! Well, I'm stunned! I gotta lie down!
John McClane: The only people who go through this much trouble are professionals, not luggage thieves and not punks!

Trudeau: Okay, we've got a body in the morgue that seems to have died twice. Now, assuming this isn't a computer error, what do we assume?
John McClane: That someone's about to seriously fuck with this airport.

[during the fight with Col.Stuart] Motherfuckin' motherfucker!

John McClane

You are in my little pond now, and I am the big fish that runs it.

Carmine Lorenzo

Who's driving this car, Stevie Wonder?

John McClane

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

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.

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

No one kills him but me! Understood?


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