Louden Swain: But all I ever settled for is that we're born to live and then to die, and... we got to do it alone, each in his own way. And I guess that's why we got to love those people who deserve it like there's no tomorrow. 'Cause when you get right down to it - there isn't.
Brian Johnson: Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. But we think you're crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us - in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain...
Andrew Clark:...and an athlete...
Allison Reynolds:...and a basket case...
Claire Standish:...a princess...
John Bender:...and a criminal...
Brian Johnson: Does that answer your question? Sincerely yours, the Breakfast Club.
The Horned King: I presume, my boy, you are the keeper of this oracular pig.
Leroy Green: I do not even have a paint brush.
Patsy Cline: I can't stand it. Makes me want to scream and claw my face.
Kyoami: Are there no gods... no Buddha? If you exist, hear me. You are mischievous and cruel! Are you so bored up there you must crush us like ants? Is it such fun to see men weep?
Tango: Enough! Do not blaspheme! It is the gods who weep. They see us killing each other over and over since time began. They can't save us from ourselves.
Burt Wilson: You did what? You opened it? You stupid moron! You idiot! What's the matter with you Frank? Haven't I already told you never to even go near those goddamn tanks?
Frank: What are we gonna do, Burt?
Burt Wilson: I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to be sued by the Darrow Chemical Company. I might even be investigated by the government. I might become very famous. I might even lose my business. I might even go to jail, goddamn it! That's what I'm going to do.
Cay: Vivian, we have to get out of here, you know. Stand up. Take a walk. Have a Coke. Window shop?
Karen Blixen: If I know a song of Africa, of the giraffe and the African new moon lying on her back, of the plows in the fields and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers, does Africa know a song of me? Will the air over the plain quiver with a color that I have had on, or the children invent a game in which my name is, or the full moon throw a shadow over the gravel of the drive that was like me, or will the eagles of the Ngong Hills look out for me?
Old Mr.: Celie, you has my sympathy. Ain't many women allow they husband's ho to lay up in they house.
Mrs. Cadbury: Tell me, what you know about yourself.
Anne Shirley: Well, it really isn't worth telling, Mrs. Cadbury but if you let me tell you what I imagine about myself you'd find it a lot more interesting.
Charlotte Bartlett: I shall never forgive myself.
Lucy Honeychurch: You always say that, Charlotte, but you always do forgive yourself.
Rusty Dennis: First you told me he was gonna be retarded, then you told me he was gonna be blind and deaf. If I'd dug his grave every time one of you geniuses told me he was gonna die, I'd be eating fuckin' chop suey in China by now.
Charley Partanna: Do I ice her? Do I marry her?
Caesar: I will reason with him, I'll appeal to his better nature.
Rooney: Oh, you're gonne reason with a grown man in a dress?
Mr. Helpmann: Bad sportsmanship. A ruthless minority of people seem to have forgotten good old-fashioned virtues. They just can't stand seeing the other fellow win. If these people would just play the game.
Bennett: What's the car for?
Paul Kersey: Bait.
Herb: When was the last time you fucked your wife?
Ed: You're a classy guy, Herb.