Nigel: The numbers all go to eleven. Look, right across the board, eleven, eleven, eleven and...
Martin: Oh, I see. And most amps go up to ten?
Martin: Does that mean it's louder? Is it any louder?
Nigel: Well, it's one louder, isn't it? It's not ten. You see, most blokes, you know, will be playing at ten. You're on ten here, all the way up, all the way up, all the way up, you're on ten on your guitar. Where can you go from there? Where?
Martin: I don't know.
Nigel: Nowhere. Exactly. What we do is, if we need that extra push over the cliff, you know what we do?
Martin: Put it up to eleven.
Nigel: Elevn. Exactly. One louder.
Martin: Why don't you just make ten louder and make ten be the top number and make that a little louder?
Nigel: These go to eleven.
Bailey: So, in all my lives as a dog, here's what I've learned. Have fun, obviously. Whenever possible, find someone to save, and save them. Lick the ones you love. Don't get all sad-faced about what happened and scrunchy-faced about what could. Just be here now.
Patrick: Don't ever let any one make you feel like you don't deserve what you want.
Lloyd: What do you mean you don't bet? Wussy! Wussy!
Harry: I never have and I never will.
Lloyd: Yeah, right. I bet you twenty bucks I can get you gambling before the end of the day.
Harry: No way.
Lloyd: I give you three to one odds.
Lloyd: Five to one?
Lloyd Ten to one?
Harry: You're on.
[Lloyd and Harry both shake hands and smile.]
Lloyd: I'm gonna get you.
Lloyd: I don't know how, but I'm gonna get you.
Inigo Montoya: That Vizzini, he can fuss.
Fezzik: ...fuss...fuss... I think he likes to scream at us.
Inigo Montoya: Probably he means no harm.
Fezzik: He's really very short on charm.
Inigo Montoya: Oh, you've a great gift for rhyme.
Fezzik: Yes, yes, some of the time.
Vizzini: Enough of that.
Inigo Montoya: Fezzik, are there rocks ahead?
Fezzik: If there are, we'll all be dead.
Vizzini: No more rhymes now, I mean it.
Fezzik: Anybody want a peanut?
Ngoc Lan Tran: What kind of fuck you give me? What kind? American people, eight kind of fuck. Love fuck, hate fuck, sex-only fuck, break-up fuck, make-up fuck, drunk fuck, buddy fuck, pity fuck.
Buddy: We elves try to stick to the four main food groups: candy, candy canes, candy corns and syrup.
Ken: You coming up?
Ray: What's up there?
Ken: Well, the view.
Ray: The view of what? The view of down here? I can see that down here.
Ken: Ray, you're about the worst tourist in the whole world!
Ray: Ken, I grew up in Dublin. I love Dublin. If I'd grown up on a farm, and was retarded, Bruges might impress me. But I didn't, so it doesn't!
Gigi: Girls are taught a lot of stuff growing up. If a guy punches you he likes you. Never try to trim your own bangs and someday you will meet a wonderful guy and get your very own happy ending. Every movie we see, Every story we're told implores us to wait for it, the third act twist, the unexpected declaration of love, the exception to the rule. But sometimes we're so focused on finding our happy ending we don't learn how to read the signs. How to tell from the ones who want us and the ones who don't, the ones who will stay and the ones who will leave. And maybe a happy ending doesn't include a guy, maybe... It's you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future. Maybe the happy ending is... Just... Moving on. Or maybe the happy ending is this, knowing after all the unreturned phone calls, broken-hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment you never gave up hope.