I've finally found someone I can love - a good, clean love... without utensils.

Frank

Jane: How could you do something so vicious
Vincent Ludwig: It was easy my dear. You forget I spent two years as a building contractor.

I'd known her for years. We used to go to all the police functions together. Ah, how I loved her, but she had her music. I think she had her music. She'd hang out with the Chicago Male Chorus and Symphony. I don't recall her playing an instrument or be able to carry a tune. Yet she was on the road 300 days of the year. In fact I bought her a harp for christmas. She asked me what it was.

Frank

[narrating] The attempt on Nordberg's life left me shaken and disturbed, and all the questions kept coming up over and over again, like bubbles in a case of club soda. Who was this character in the hospital? And why was he trying to kill Nordberg? And for whom? Did Ludwig lie to me? I didn't have any proof, but, somehow, I didn't entirely trust him, either. Why was the I Luv You not listed in Ludwig's records? And if it was, did he know about it? And if he didn't, who did? And where the hell was I?

Frank

Ed: You want to take a dingy?
Frank: No, I took care of that at the press conference.

Frank: A good cop - needlessly cut down by some cowardly hoodlums.
Ed: No way for a man to die.
Frank: No... you're right, Ed. A parachute not opening... that's a way to die. Getting caught in the gears of a combine... having your nuts bit off by a Laplander, that's the way I wanna go.
Wilma Nordberg: [cries] Oh... Frank. This is terrible.
Ed: Don't you worry Wilma. Your husband is going to be alright. Don't you worry about anything. Just think positive. Never let a doubt enter your mind.
Frank: He's right, Wilma. But I wouldn't wait until the last minute to fill out those organ donor cards.
[Wilma cries again]
Ed: What I'm trying to say is that Wilma, as soon as Nordburg is better, he's welcome back at Police Squad.
Frank: Unless he's a drooling vegetable. But I think that's only common sense...
[Wilma cries again]

Jane: I'm boiling a roast. How hot and wet do you like it?
Frank: Very hot, and awfully wet.

Truck Driver: [shouts] Ya dumb broad!
Driving instructor: All right, Stephanie, gently extend your arm. Extend your middle finger. Very good. Well done.

[Tossing drug-laced dog treats into Mary's apartment]
Pat Healy: Wait... how many is this?
Norm: Umm... four.
Pat Healy: Four? That seems like an aweful lot of speed to give one little pooch. Are you sure it won't kill him?
Norm: I never said that.
Pat Healy: ... eh.

Vincent Ludwig: Drebin!
Jane: Frank!
Frank: You're both right.

Mary: You've been to Nepal?
Pat Healy: Not in months, I don't know why I bought the damn place.

Chubbs: Back in 1965, Sports Illustrated said I was going to be the next Arnold Palmer.
Happy Gilmore: Yeah? What happened?
Chubbs: They wouldn't let me play on the Pro Tour anymore.
Happy Gilmore: Ah, I'm sorry. Because you're black?
Chubbs: Hell no! Damned alligator BIT my hand off!
[Shows Happy his wooden hand]
Happy Gilmore: OH MY GOD!
Chubbs: Yeah. tournament down in Florida. I hooked my ball in the rough down by the lake. Damned alligator just POPPED up, cut me down on my prime. He got me, but I tore one of the bastard's eyes out though. Look at that.
[Shows Happy a small glass jar with an eyeball in it]
Happy Gilmore: You're pretty sick, Chubbs.

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