Palmer Joss: What are you studying up there?
Ellie Arroway: Oh, the usual. Nebulae, quasars, pulsars, stuff like that. What are you writing?
Palmer Joss: The usual. Nouns, adverbs, adjective here and there.
"Dirty Steve" Stephens: Damn good riding with you, Chavez.
Chavez: Many nights, my friend... Many nights I've put a blade to your throat while you were sleeping. Glad I never killed you, Steve. You're all right.
Eric Lensherr: Charles Xavier did more for mutants than you will ever know. My single greatest regret is that he had to die for our dream to live.
Mike Banning: Stay in this room and wait for me to come back.
Benjamin Asher: And if you don't come back?
Mike Banning: Then you're fucked.
Benjamin Asher: That's inspiring. (00:58:00)
Eddie Brock: It's Brock, sir. Edward Brock Jr. I come before you today, humbled and humiliated, to ask you for just one thing. I want you to kill Peter Parker.
Lee Butters: You have the right to remain silent. So shut the fuck up. You have the right to an attorney. If you can't afford an attorney, we will provide you with the dumbest fucking lawyer on Earth. If you hire Johnny Cochrane, I'll kill you!
Mr. Brooks: Before I was the Thumb Print Killer, I killed a lot of people, in a lot of different ways.
Skip: I'd rather be home with a fucked-up hand up in some pussy than to be out here healthier than a motherfucker without it... Shit.
Robert McCall: Got to be who you are in this world, no matter what.
Ardeth Bay: By putting this on, you have started a chain reaction that could bring about the next apocalypse.
Rick: [to Ardeth] You, lighten up. [To Alex] You, big trouble. [To Jonathan] You, get in the car.
Jamesir Bensonmum: She murdered herself in her sleep, sir.
Dick Charleston: You mean suicide?
Jamesir Bensonmum: Oh no, it was murder, all right. Mrs. Twain hated herself.
Mary: Let me ask you something. Why are you alive?
John Preston: I'm alive... I live... To safeguard the continuity of this great society. To serve Libria.
Mary: It's circular. You exist to continue your existence. What's the point?
John Preston: What's the point of your existence?
Mary: To feel. 'Cause you've never done it, you can never know it. But it's as vital as breath. And without it, without love, without anger, without sorrow, breath is just a clock... Ticking.
Agent Smith: Why, Mr. Anderson? Why do you do it? Why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you're fighting for something? For more than just your survival? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it freedom? Or truth? Perhaps peace? Could it be for love? Illusions, Mr. Anderson. Vagaries of perception. The temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desparately to justify an existence that is without meaning or porpose. And all of them as artificial as the Matrix itself, although only a human mind could invent something as insipid as love. You must be able to see it, Mr. Anderson. You must know it by now. You can't win. It's pointless to keep fighting. Why, Mr. Anderson? Why?! Why do you persist?!
Neo: Because I choose to.
Regan MacNeil: You're going to die up there.
