A long time ago, in the underground realm, where there are no lies or pain, there lived a Princess who dreamed of the human world. She dreamed of blue skies, soft breeze, and sunshine. One day, eluding her keepers, the Princess escaped. Once outside, the brightness blinded her and erased every trace of the past from her memory. She forgot who she was and where she came from. Her body suffered cold, sickness, and pain. Eventually, she died. However, her father, the King, always knew that the Princess' soul would return, perhaps in another body, in another place, at another time. And he would wait for her, until he drew his last breath, until the world stopped turning...

Pan

Alright, boys, this is the last shot we got! We're gonna run the picket fence at 'em! Jimmy, you're solo right! Everett, Merle should be open on the other side of that fence! Now, boys, don't get caught watchin' the paint dry!

Wilbur 'Shooter' Flatch

Vincent: And you know what they call a... a... a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?
Jules: They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with cheese?
Vincent: No man, they got the metric system. They wouldn't know what the fuck a Quarter Pounder is.
Jules: Then what do they call it?
Vincent: They call it a Royale with cheese.
Jules: A Royale with cheese. What do they call a Big Mac?
Vincent: Well, a Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call it le Big-Mac.
Jules: Le Big-Mac. Ha ha ha ha. What do they call a Whopper?
Vincent: I dunno, I didn't go into Burger King.

Cruel Leonidas demanded that you stand. I require only that you kneel.

Xerxes

Narrator: In the New York Herald, November 26, year 1911, there is an account of the hanging of three men. They died for the murder of Sir Edmund William Godfrey; Husband, Father, Pharmacist and all around gentle-man resident of: Greenberry Hill, London. He was murdered by three vagrants whose motive was simple robbery. They were identified as: Joseph Green, Stanley Berry, and Daniel Hill. Green, Berry, Hill. And I Would Like To Think This was Only A Matter Of Chance. As reported in the Reno Gazzette, June of 1983 there is the story of a fire, the water that it took to contain the fire, and a scuba diver named Delmer Darion. Employee of the Peppermill Hotel and Casino, Reno, Nevada. Engaged as a blackjack dealer. Well liked and well regarded as a physical, recreational and sporting sort, Delmer's true passion was for the lake. As reported by the coroner, Delmer died of a heart attack somewhere between the lake and the tree. A most curious side note is the suicide the next day of Craig Hansen. Volunteer firefighter, estranged father of four and a poor tendency to drink. Mr. Hansen was the pilot of the plane that quite accidentally lifted Delmer Darion out of the water. Added to this, Mr. Hansen's tortured life met before with Delmer Darion just two nights previous. The weight of the guilt and the measure of coincidence so large, Craig Hansen took his life. And I Am Trying To Think This Was All Only A Matter Of Chance. The tale told at a 1961 awards dinner for the American Association Of Forensic Science by Dr. Donald Harper, president of the association, began with a simple suicide attempt. Seventeen year old Sydney Barringer. In the city of Los Angeles on March 23, 1958. The coroner ruled that the unsuccessful suicide had suddenly become a successful homicide. To explain: The suicide was confirmed by a note, left in the breast pocket of Sydney Barringer. At the same time young Sydney stood on the ledge of this nine story building, an argument swelled three stories below. The neighbors heard, as they usually did, the arguing of the tenants and it was not uncommon for them to threaten each other with a shotgun, or one of the many handguns kept in the house. And when the shotgun accidentaly went off, Sydney just happend to pass. Added to this, the two tenants turned out to be: Fay and Arthur Barringer. Sydney's mother and Sydney's father. When confronted with the charge, which took some figuring out for the officers on the scene of the crime, Fay Barringer swore that she did not know that the gun was loaded. A young boy who lived in the building, sometimes a visitor and friend to Sydney Barringer said that he had seen, six days prior the loading of the shotgun. It seems that the arguing and the fighting and all of the violence was far too much for Sydney Barringer and knowing his mother and father's tendency to fight, he decided to do something. Sydney Barringer jumps from the ninth floor rooftop. His parents argue three stories below. Her accidental shotgun blast hits Sydney in the stomach as he passes the arguing sixth floor window. He is killed instantly but continues to fall, only to find, three stories below, a safety net installed three days prior for a set of window washers that would have broken his fall and saved his life if not for the hole in his stomach. So Fay Barringer was charged with the murder of her son and Sydney Barringer noted as an accomplice in his own death. And it is in the humble opinion of this narrator that this is not just "Something That Happened." This cannot be "One of those things...” This, please, cannot be that. And for what I would like to say, I can't. This Was Not Just A Matter Of Chance. Ohhhh. These strange things happen all the time.

Fuck a beat, I'll go A Capella. Fuck a Papa Doc, fuck a clock, fuck a trailer, fuck everybody. Fuck y'all if you doubt me. I'm a piece of fuckin' white trash, I say it proudly. And fuck this battle, I don't want to win, I'm outtie. Here, tell these people something they don't know about me.

Jimmy Smith Jr

Hermione: Harry, you told me you'd figured the egg out weeks ago. The task is two days from now.
Harry: Really? I had no idea. I suppose Viktor's already figured it out.
Hermione: Wouldn't know. We don't actually talk about the tournament. Actually, we don't really talk at all. Viktor's more of a physical being. I just mean he's not particularly loquacious. Mostly, he watches me study. It's a bit annoying, actually. You are trying to figure this egg out, aren't you?
Harry: What's that supposed to mean?
Hermione: It just means these tasks are designed to test you... in the most brutal way. They're almost cruel. And... I'm scared for you. You got by the dragons mostly on nerve. I'm not sure it's going to be enough this time.
Cedric Diggory: Hey, Potter! Potter!
Harry: Cedric.
Cedric Diggory: How - ? How are you?
Harry: Spectacular.
Cedric Diggory: Look, I realize I never really thanked you properly for tipping me off about those dragons.
Harry: Forget about it. I'm sure you would've dont the same for me.
Cedric Diggory: Exactly. You know the Prefects' bathroom on the fifth floor? It's not a bad place for a bath. Just take your egg and... mull things over in the hot water.

[On radio] Your husband's all right, Mrs. Brody. He's fishing. He's just caught a couple of stripers. We'll bring 'em in for dinner. We won't be long, we haven't seen anything yet. Over and out.

Quint

Bertier: Honesty? You want honesty? Honestly, I think you're nothing. Nothing but a pure waste of God-given talent. You don't listen to nobody man. Not even Doc or Boone. Shiver push on the line every time and you blow right past 'em. Push 'em, pull 'em. do something. You can't run over everyone in this league and every time you do you leave one of your teammates hanging out to dry, me in particular?
Big Ju: Why should I give a hoot about you? Huh? Or anyone else out there? You wanna talk about the ways you the captain?
Bertier: Right.

[as a waiter] I aims to please, sir, and I'm pleased to aim!

Malcolm X

Maverick: I feel the need...
Maverick, Goose: ...the need for speed!

Don Corleone: I like to drink wine more than I used to.
Michael: It's good for ya, Pop.
Don Corleone: Anyway I'm drinkin' more.

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