Richie Tozier: Go blow your dad, you mullet wearing asshole. (01:07:15)
Col. Nathan R. Jessep: Son, we live in a world that has walls and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Lieutenant Weinberg? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago and you curse the Marines; you have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that Santiago's death, while tragic, probably saved lives and my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives.
You don't want the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties you want me on that wall, you need me on that wall. We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that I provide and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said "thank you, " and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a weapon and stand a post. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to.
Doc Holliday: Oh. Johnny, I apologize; I forgot you were there. You may go now.
Creasy: Okay, my friend. It's off to the next life for you. I guarantee you, you won't be lonely.
Matt: I love you... I have a condom.
Mr. Landis: You can lose lots of money chasing women, but you will never lose women chasing money.
Aibileen Clark: All you do is scam and lie to get what you want. You a godless woman. Ain't you tired, Ms. Hilly? Ain't you tired?
Herb Brooks: Red line, back. Blue line, back. Far blue line, back. Far red line, back. And you have 45 seconds to do it. Get used to this drill. You'll be doing it *a lot*. Why? Because the legs feed the wolf, gentlemen. I can't promise you we'll be the best team at Lake Placid next February. But we will be the best conditioned. That I can promise you.
Truvy: Sammy is so confused he doesn't know whether to scratch his watch or wind his butt.
Cal Hockley: You're going to him? To be a whore to a gutter rat?!
Rose: I'd rather be his whore than your wife.
Pope Francis: When no-one is to blame, everyone is to blame.
Abdul Karim: Listen, little drop, give yourself up without regret and in return you will gain the ocean. Give yourself away and in the great sea you will be secure.
Gerry Kennedy: Dear Holly, I don't have much time. I don't mean literally, I mean you're out buying ice cream and you'll be home soon. But I have a feeling this is the last letter, because there is only one thing left to tell you. It isn't to go down memory lane or make you buy a lamp, you can take care of yourself without any help from me. It's to tell you how much you move me, how you changed me. You made me a man, by loving me Holly. And for that, I am eternally grateful... Literally. If you can promise me anything, promise me that whenever you're sad, or unsure, or you lose complete faith, that you'll try to see yourself through my eyes. Thank you for the honor of being my wife. I'm a man with no regrets. How lucky am I. You made my life, Holly. But I'm just one chapter in yours. There'll be more. I promise. So here it comes, the big one. Don't be afraid to fall in love again. Watch out for that signal, when life as you know it ends. P.S. I will always love you.
Hondo Lane: You baked today. Smell fresh bread on you. And top of that you smell all over like a woman, rich and warm and soft. I could find you in the dark Mrs. Lowe.
Frank Slade: I want it wall to wall with John Daniels.
Charlie Simms: Don't you mean Jack Daniels?
Frank Slade: He may be Jack to you son, but when you've known him as long as I have... That's a joke.
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.
Paul Edgecomb: On the day of my judgment, when I stand before God, and He asks me why did I kill one of his true miracles, what am I gonna say? That it was my job? My job?
John Coffey: You tell God the Father it was a kindness you done. I know you hurtin' and worryin', I can feel it on you, but you oughta quit on it now. Because I want it over and done. I do. I'm tired, boss. Tired of bein' on the road, lonely as a sparrow in the rain. Tired of not ever having me a buddy to be with, or tell me where we's coming from or going to, or why. Mostly I'm tired of people being ugly to each other. I'm tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world everyday. There's too much of it. It's like pieces of glass in my head all the time. Can you understand?
Paul Edgecomb: Yes, John. I think I can.
Jules Winnfield: Ezekiel 25:17. 'The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyrannies of evil men. Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness. For he is truly his brothers' keeper and finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.' Now I've been saying that shit for years, and if you've ever heard it, it meant your ass. I never gave much thought to what it meant, I just thought it was a cold blooded thing to say to a mother fucker before I popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this morning that made me think twice. Now I'm thinking it could mean you're the evil man, and I'm the righteous man. And Mr. 9mm here is the shepherd, protecting my righteous ass. Or maybe it means that you're the righteous man, and I'm the shepherd, and it's the world that's evil and selfish. Now I'd like that, but you see that shit ain't the truth. The truth is, YOU'RE the weak, and I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm trying, Ringo. I'm trying real hard to be the shepherd.