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

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.

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

Just once, I'd like a regular, normal Christmas. A little eggnog... a fuckin' Christmas tree... a little turkey. But, no. I gotta crawl around in this motherfuckin' tin can.

John McClane

Chopper Pilot: What's the matter, cowboy? Ride too rough?
John McClane: I don't like to fly.
Samantha Coleman: Then what are you doing here?
John McClane: I don't like to lose either.

Al Powell: You ain't pissing in somebody's pool, are you?
John McClane: Yeah, and I'm fresh out of chlorine.

Oh man, I can't fucking believe this. Another basement, another elevator. How can the same thing happen to the same guy twice?

John McClane

John McClane: I guess I was wrong about you. You're not such an asshole after all.
Grant: Oh, you were right about me. I'm just your kind of asshole.

Grant: Too bad, McClane. I kind of liked you.
John McClane: I got enough friends.

Holly McClane: They told me there were terrorists at the airport.
John McClane: Yeah, I heard that too.

Marvin: So you like that one huh? How 'bout you give me twenty bucks for it?
John McClane: How 'bout I let you live?
Marvin: Man sure knows how to bargain.

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