Erin Gruwell: Does anyone know Homer's the Odyssey?
Andre: I know Homer the Simpson.
Robert Graysmith: Paul, are you okay?
Paul Avery: No... but thanks for asking.
Raphael: You're still here? Go back to your jungle.
Leonardo: At least his personality is still intact.
Amanda Dunfrey: I just want you to know that it's okay... being scared. And, well, if you need a friend, someone to talk too.
Mrs. Carmody: I have a friend. God, up above. I talk to him everyday. Don't you condescend me.
Amanda Dunfrey: I'm sorry?
Mrs. Carmody: Not ever. You don't mock me.
Amanda Dunfrey: That's not what I was doing.
Mrs. Carmody: I'll tell you what. The day I need a friend like you, I'll just have myself a little squat and shit one out.
Melanie 'Mel' Whitfield: So, technically, you slept with Santa?
Kelli Whitfield: Well, I didn't know he was Santa at the time... but technically, I guess I did.
Melanie 'Mel' Whitfield: Well, ho, ho, ho.
Peggy: It's nice to have a word that can describe you. I've never had that before.
Melvin B. Tolson: Denigrate. There's a word for you. From the Latin word "niger", to defame, to blacken. It's always there, isn't it? Even in the dictionary. Even in the speech of a Negro professor. Somehow, "black" is always equated with failure.
Leon Tallis: What do you say, Cee? Does the hot weather make you behave badly? Good heavens, you're blushing.
Cecilia Tallis: Just hot in here, that's all.
Sylvia Likens: She sacrificed me to protect her children, and she sacrificed her children to protect herself.
Michael Moore: There are nearly 50 million Americans with no health insurance. They pray every day they don't get sick because 18,000 of them will die this year, simply because they're uninsured. But this movie isn't about them. It's about the 250 million of you who have health insurance. Those of you who are living the American Dream.
Dan Burns: I don't want to go out with the pig... face.
Detective Inspector Black: Do you want to know my opinion of the newspapers?
Andrew Wyke: What?
Detective Inspector Black: Journalists are a bunch of prick-teasing cocksuckers.
Andrew Wyke: No.
Detective Inspector Black: That's right.
Andrew Wyke: I'm sorry, but isn't that a contradiction in terms?
Andrew Wyke: Is it?
Billy Darly: Look at you. You look like one of us. Look what I made you.
Sylvester: Payback's a bitch, ain't it?
Zeke: I'll see you at Nationals.
Sylvester: Yes you will.
Captain Wentworth: I have loved none but you. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone I think and plan. Have you not seen this?
Robert Hanssen: Do you pray the Rosary every day?
Eric O'Neill: Not every day Sir, no.
Robert Hanssen: You should.
Lars Lindstrom: I was hoping winter was over.
Margo: No, it's just a thaw - winter isn't over till Easter.
Katie: Daddy.
Mike Enslin: No, you're not real.
Katie: I'm cold.
Mike Enslin: No, you're not Katie.
Katie: I love you Daddy. Don't you love me anymore?
Mike Enslin: Of course I do, sweetheart.
Detective Remy Bressant: If you see me comin' you better run cause I'm gonna lay you the fuck down.
Carter Chambers: Edward Perryman Cole died in May. It was a Sunday in the afternoon and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. He was 81 years old. Even now, I can't claim to understand the measure of a life, but I can tell you this: I know that when he died, his eyes were closed and his heart was open, and I'm pretty sure he was happy with his final resting place because he was buried on the mountain, and that was against the law.