You're not Death. You're just a kid in a suit.

William Parrish

Jack Frye: You want me to bribe senators?
Howard Hughes: I don't want them bribed, Jack. I want this done legal. I want them BOUGHT.

Will: I read your book last night.
Sean: So you're the one.

Harry Rex Vonner: Lucien, I thought you were dead.
Lucien Wilbanks: I'm trying.

Doyle Lonnegan: Mr. Shaw, we usually require a tie at this table... if you don't have one we can get you one.
Henry Gondorff: That'd be real nice of you, Mr. Lonniman!
Doyle Lonnegan: Lonnegan.

Sydney Ellen Wade: I don't know how you do it.
President Andrew Shepherd: It's Arthur Murray. Six lessons.
Sydney Ellen Wade: That's not what I mean. Two hundred pairs of eyes are focused on you with two questions on their minds - who's this girl, and why is the President dancing with her?
President Andrew Shepherd: Well, first of all, the two hundred pairs of eyes aren't focused on me. They're focused on you. And the answers are Sydney Ellen Wade, and because she said yes.

Little did he know. That means there's something he doesn't know, which means there's something you don't know, did you know that?

Dr. Jules Hilbert

The battle of Helm's Deep is over; the battle for Middle Earth is about to begin.


Tess: Danny was walking through the restaurant when he spotted me.
Terry: Is that right?
Danny: Yeah, imagine the odds.
Terry: Of all the gin joints in all the world.

Caleb Danvers: Ugh, y' gotta pull over.
Reid Garwin: Oh, you wanna stop? That'll impress Harvard.
Caleb Danvers: Oh what the hell., lose 'em. Cut across marblehead. let's have some fun while we're at it.

[narrating] Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday night. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin' else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?

Mark "Rent-boy" Renton

[Hermione looks at Ron's broken leg, and they flirt by mimicking Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson]
Hermione: Ow! That looks really painful.
Ron: It's sorta painful. They uh, they might... chop it.
Hermione: I'm sure Madame Pomfrey will fix it in a heartbeat.
Ron: It's too late, it's ruined. It'll have to be chopped off.

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