Michael Llewelyn Davies: [about J.M. Barrie] Can we have him for supper?
Sylvia Llewelyn Davies: Have him to stay for supper, Michael. We're not cannibals.

[with arms around Jack] C'mon now, you're sleepin' on your feet like a horse. My mama used to say that to me when I was little. And sing to me...

Ennis Del Mar

Johnny Truelove: You ever have that dream: the one where you did something... You don't know why, but you can never go back?

Elvira: You know what you're becoming, Tony? You're an immigrant spick millionaire, who can't stop talking about money...
Tony Montana: Who the fuck you calling a spick, mang? You white piece of bread. Get outta the way of the television.

My nose is full of his alien smell.


Well, you know what my dad always said, Having dreams is what makes life tolerable.


You wanted to see if I was crazy and would screw everything up if I actually won.


George: May the wind always be at your back and the sun upon your face.
Fred Jung: And may the wings of destiny carry you aloft to dance with the stars. Cheers, Georgie.
George: Cheers, pop.

Heroin had robbed Renton of his sex drive, but now it returned with a vengeance. And as the impotence of those days faded into memory, grim desperation took hold of his sex-crazed mind. His post-junk libido, fuelled by alcohol and amphetamine, taunted him remorselessly with his own unsatisfied desire.

Mark "Rent-boy" Renton

Kate: With hope. Love should end with hope. My husband, God rest him, told me something I'll never forget.
[in a letter]
Kate: Hope guides me. It is what gets me through the day and especially the night. The hope that after you're gone from my sight it will not be the last time I look upon you.

[screaming] You failed me! You failed me!

Vincent Gray

Jake La Motta: Is it done?
Irma: No, it's not done.
Jake La Motta: Don't overcook it. You overcook it, it's no good. It defeats its own purpose.
[Irma gives Jake a stern but nasty look]
Jake La Motta: What are you doin'? I just said don't overcook it. You're overcookin' it, bring it over.
Irma: You want your steak?
Jake La Motta: Bring it over. Bring it over! It's like a piece of charcoal! Bring it over here!
Irma: You want your steak?
Jake La Motta: YEAH, RIGHT NOW!
[Irma stabs the steak, exits the stove and slams the steak on his plate. She hastily pours carrots on the plate]
Irma: Okay. There's your stupid steak. Can't wait for it to be done?
Jake La Motta: No, I can't wait.
Irma: Good! Okay? Happy? Happy?
Jake La Motta: That's all I want. That's all I want!
Irma: That's... there! No, more! There!
[Jake routinely flips the table, spilling the contents all over the floor]
Jake La Motta: Bodder me abott a steak? Huh?
Irma: That's GREAT!
Irma: YEAH!

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