My hair, he shot my hair. Son of a bitch!

Princess Vespa

Alvy Singer: Yeah, grass, right? The illusion that it will make a white woman more like Billie Holiday.
Annie Hall: Well, have you ever made love high?
Alvy Singer: Me? No. I - I, you know, If I have grass or alcohol or anything, I get unbearably wonderful. I get too, too wonderful for words. I don't know why you have to get high every time we make love.
Annie Hall: It relaxes me.
Alvy Singer: You have to be artificially relaxed before we can go to bed?
Annie Hall: Well, what's the difference anyway?
Alvy Singer: Well, I'll give you a shot of sodium pentathol. You can sleep through it.
Annie Hall: Oh come on. Look who's talking. You've been seeing a psychiatrist for 15 years. You should smoke some of this. You'd be off the couch in no time.

Harry Dunne: It's a postcard from Fraida Felcher. 'Harry, I'm pregnant. Please call me.'
Lloyd Christmas: What do you think it means, Harry?

Randy Daytona: You got me swatting flies now?
Master Wong: Not hit flies. You hit bees!

Shaun: Mom, you know money can't buy happiness...
Cindy: Oh grow up, yes it can!
Shaun: But you and Dad have money and you're both miserable.
Cindy: ...He's miserable?

[after Shaun hits zombie with butt of rifle] Why didn't you just shoot him?

Toshi: But, Mr. Dupree, I don't play baseball. I'm in the orchestra.
Dupree: First, call me Dupree. Second, so what if you're in the orchestra? So was Catfish Hunter.

Who's ready to discharge?


Benjamin: Hey Rosie, am I doing anything right?
Rosie: You're handsomer than the other dads. Lots of them don't have hair. So that's good.

So, now we all live together in New York. I myself, am a master of the custodial arts. Or a janitor, if you wanna be a dick about it.

Thurgood Jenkins

Marty DiBergi: David St. Hubbins... I must admit I've never heard anybody with that name.
David St. Hubbins: It's an unusual name, well, he was an unusual saint, he's not a very well known saint.
Marty DiBergi: Oh, there actually is, uh... there was a Saint Hubbins?
David St. Hubbins: That's right, yes.
Marty DiBergi: What was he the saint of?
David St. Hubbins: He was the patron saint of quality footwear.

Nicholas Angel: [turning around to face a group of school children] Are there any questions?
Danny Butterman: [sitting at the back of a group of school children] Is it true that there's a point on a man's head where if you shoot it, it will blow up?

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