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.
Harry: No.
Lloyd: Five to one?
Harry: No.
Lloyd Ten to one?
Harry: You're on.
[Lloyd and Harry both shake hands and smile.]
Lloyd: I'm gonna get you.
Harry: Nuh-uh.
Lloyd: I don't know how, but I'm gonna get you.
Harry: Nuh-uh.
Forrest Gump: I may not be a smart man, but I know what love is.
Sarah: People once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the Land of the Dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can not rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong things right.
One Stab: Tristan died in 1963. The moon of the popping trees. He was last seen up in the North Country, where the hunting was still good. His grave is unmarked, but it does not matter. He had always lived in the borderland anyway, somewhere between this world and the Other.
Will Randall: What do you do?
Laura: Why do you care?
Will Randall: I don't. I was just making polite conversation.
Laura: I'd rather not discuss what I do.
Will Randall: You know, I think I understand what you're like now. You're very beautiful and you think men are only interested in you because you're beautiful, but you want them to be interested in you because you're you. The problem is, aside from all that beauty, you're not very interesting. You're rude, you're hostile, you're sullen, you're withdrawn. I know you want someone to look past all that at the real person underneath but the only reason anyone would bother to look past all that is because you're beautful. Ironic, isn't it? In an odd way you're your own problem.
The Creature: I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.
Fiona: There's a sort of greatness to your lateness.
Charles: Thanks, it's not achieved without real suffering.
Pumbaa: Hey, Timon, ever wonder what those sparkly dots are up there?
Timon: Pumbaa, I don't wonder; I know.
Pumbaa: Oh. What are they?
Timon: They're fireflies. Fireflies that, uh... Got stuck up on that big bluish-black thing.
Pumbaa: Oh, gee. I always thought they were balls of gas burning billions of miles away.
Timon: Pumbaa, with you, everything's gas.
Nicholas Earp: Remember this, all of you. Nothing counts so much as blood. The rest are just strangers. (00:11:02)
Mario Ruoppolo: Your smile spreads like a butterfly.
The Judge: Deciding what is true and what isn't now seems to me...a lack of modesty.
Valentine: Vanity?
The Judge: Vanity.
Uncle Vester: Whoa! My momma dead! Now I gotta cut ya! That's the rule, cut ya, cut ya.
Rogers: What else is there? She says, "Is beauty all that matters?", and you say, "What else is there?".
Prince Derek: It was dumb. I know.
Rogers: You should write a book: "How to Offend Women in Five Syllables or Less."
Carol: Oh, I guess we should stop, 'cause Harold has to pee.
Rudy Travis: Get back in the front. Get back up there with Harold! Get up there.
Harold Carvey, DVM: I don't want to play... this game... anymore.
Rudy Travis: You pee in your pants.
Troy Dyer: I've wanted you like this for all these years.
Friedrich Bhaer: I am going to the west. They need teachers and they are not so concerned about the accent.
Jo March: I don't mind it either.
Muriel: When I lived in Porpoise Spit, I used to sit in my room for hours and listen to abba songs. But since I've met you and moved to Sydney, I haven't listened to one Abba song. That's because my life is as good as an Abba song. It's as good as Dancing Queen.
Shaddus Peyser: What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What?
Don Juan: There are only four questions of value in life, Don Octavio. What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same: only love.