Julie: If I wasn't me, I'd buy my album.
David: You know, if you can reach one person.

Somebody died. It was me.

David

Harry Hogge: Cole, you're wandering all over the track!
Cole Trickle: Yeah, well this son of a bitch just slammed into me.
Harry Hogge: No, no, he didn't slam you, he didn't bump you, he didn't nudge you... he *rubbed* you. And rubbin, son, is racin'.

You and Rowdy have the same sickness, it's called denial and it's probably going to kill you both.

Dr. Claire Lewicki

Tim, take a look at that hound. That's the best coon-dog I ever seen or heard about and I didn't to teach him a damn thing.

Harry Hogge

Harry Hogge: What do you know about stock car racing?
Cole Trickle: Well... watched it on television, of course.
Harry Hogge: You've seen it on television?
Cole Trickle: ESPN. The coverage is excellent, you'd be surprised at how much you can pick up.
Harry Hogge: I'm sure I would.

Tim Daland: You said you'd look at him.
Harry Hogge: I've looked at him.
Tim Daland: I paid twenty five hundred dollars to use this track today, Harry.
Cole Trickle: Forget it, he needs a brand name like Exkon or Richard Petty.
Harry Hogge: Well, I know a damn race driver when I see one.

Rowdy Burns: You run good.
Cole Trickle: Thank you.
Rowdy Burns: Now go get your own car and we'll see how you do in a crowd.

Harry Hogge: All right. While we're still under a caution, I want you to go back out on that track and hit the pace car.
Cole Trickle: Hit the pace car?
Harry Hogge: Hit the pace car.
Cole Trickle: What for?
Harry Hogge: Because you've hit every other goddamned thing out there, I want you to be perfect.

Dr. Claire Lewicki: Boy, you're very quick.
Cole Trickle: You oughta see me drive.

Marriage Counselor: On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the happiness of your marriage?
Jane Smith: 8.
John Smith: Wait. Could you clarify? Is 10 the highest? 10 being perfectly happy and 1 being totally miserable or...
Marriage Counselor: Just respond instinctively.
John Smith: Ok. Ready?
Jane Smith, John Smith: 8.

William Somerset: Did the kid see it?
Detective Taylor: What?
William Somerset: The kid.
Detective Taylor: What the fuck sort of question is that? You know, we're all going to be really glad when we get rid of you, Somerset. It's always these questions with you. "Did the kid see it?" Who gives a fuck? He's dead, his wife killed him. Anything else has nothing to do with us.

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