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: 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

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

Carmine Lorenzo

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

John McClane

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.

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!

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

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.

Hey, Carmine, let me ask you something. What sets off the metal detectors first? The lead in your ass or the shit in your brains? Fat fuck.

John McClane

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