Albus Dumbledore: Minister, the evidence of the Dark Lord's return is incontrovertible.
Cornelius Fudge: He's not back!

Dan: You love her like a dog loves its owner.
Larry: And the owner loves the dog for so doing.
Dan: You'll hurt her. You'll never forgive her.
Larry: Of course I'll forgive her. I have forgiven her. Without forgiveness we're savages. You're drowning.

Hollis Elmore: You shot me, and you murdered my friends... and you dumped us in the lake.
Darwin Tremor: Pretty much.

Lester Burnham: Smile! You're at Mr. Smiley's.
Carolyn Burnham: [stunned] Uh, Buddy, this is my...
Lester Burnham: Her husband. We've met before, but something tells me you're going to remember me this time.

Anna: I'm sorry you're...
Larry: Don't say it! Don't you fucking say you're too good for me. I am, but don't say it.

We live, we die, and the wheels on the bus go round and round.

Edward Cole

Paul Rusesabagina: Hundreds, there were too many to count.
Dube: Why are people so cruel?
Paul Rusesabagina: Hatred... Insanity... I don't know...

Old Skip was 11, and feeble with arthritis, but he never lost that old devilish look in his eye. He made my room his own. Came across an old photo of him not long ago. His little face, with the long snout sniffing at something in the air. His tail was straight out and pointing. Eyes were flashing in some momentary excitement. He always loved to be rubbed on the back of his neck. And when I did it, he'd yawn, and he'd stretch, reach out to me with his paws as if he was trying to embrace me. I recieved a trans-atlantic call one day. "Skip died", Daddy said. He and my mama wrapped him him my baseball jacket. They buried him out under the elm tree, they said. That wasn't totally true. For he really lay buried in my heart.

Narrator

Wrestling Promoter: You coulda taken him apart. Why didn't you stop him?
Peter Parker: I missed the part where that's my problem.

Sebastian: Cecile, you know what would be super-duper sexy? If you lost all the clothes.
Cecile Caldwell: I don't think so.

You said to write about what disturbs me, particularly if it bothers no one else.

Eugenia 'Skeeter' Phelan

Jerry Maguire: Show me the money!
Rod Tidwell: Yeah! Louder!
Jerry Maguire: Show me the money!
Rod Tidwell: I need to feel you Jerry!
Jerry Maguire: Show me the money! Show me the money!
Rod Tidwell: I love black people.
Jerry Maguire: I love black people!
Rod Tidwell: Who's your motherfucker, Jerry?
Jerry Maguire: You're my mother fucker! Show me the money!
Rod Tidwell: Uh! Congratulations, you're still my agent.

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