John: You have no idea of what I'm capable of.
Carl Van Loon: You do not know what I know because you have not earned those powers. You're careless with those powers, you flaunt them and you throw them around like a brat with his trust-fund. You haven't had to climb up all the greasy little rungs. You haven't been bored blind at the fundraisers. You haven't done the time and that first marriage to the girl with the right father. You think you can leap over all in a single bound. You haven't had to bribe or charm or threat your way to a seat at that table. You don't know how to assess your competition because you haven't competed. Don't make me your competition.
Mrs. Watson: Life is like a disco, no matter how the music changes, you just keep on dancing.
Erik Lehnsherr: I've been at the mercy of men just following orders. Never again.
Finn McMissile: My apologies, I haven't properly introduced myself. Finn McMissile, British intelligence.
Mater: Tow Mater, average intelligence.
Optimus Prime: In any war, there are calms between storms. There will be days when we lose faith. Days when our allies turn against us. But the day will never come, that we forsake this planet, and its people.
Pest: Does that look like a dog? No, it isn't a dog!
Mr. Gilbert: This isn't The Dead Poets Society, and I am not that bloke on BBC 2 who keeps getting kids to sing in choirs. I especially don't want to hear how well you are settling down at uni or how much growing up you have done in the past 12 months. At best I am ambivalent towards most of you, but some of you I actively dislike, for no other reason than your poor personal hygiene or your irritating personalities. I hope I have made myself clear on this point, and in case any of you think I am joking, I am not. I assure you, once my legal obligation to look after you best interests is removed, I can be one truly nasty fucker. Good luck with the rest of your lives, and try not to kill anyone, it reflects very badly on all of us here.
Control: All I want from you is one codename: Tinker, Tailor, Soldier...
George Smiley: ...Spy.
Aramis: I'm not really a priest.
Blonde girl: I'm not really a lady.
Aramis: I have 10 minutes.
Benjamin Mee: You seem really calm.
Peter MacCready: Ah.
Benjamin Mee: Have you been drinking?
Peter MacCready: All night long.
Benjamin Mee: Thanks for that.
Peter MacCready: Anytime.
Natalie Geary: Let me welcome you to our humble commode.
John Tuld: So, what you're telling me, is that the music is about to stop, and we're going to be left holding the biggest bag of odorous excrement ever assembled in the history of capitalism.
Peter Sullivan: Sir, I not sure that I would put it that way, but let me clarify using your analogy. What this model shows is the music, so to speak, just slowing. If the music were to stop, as you put it, then this model wouldn't even be close to that scenario. It would be considerably worse.
John Tuld: Let me tell you something, Mr. Sullivan. Do you care to know why I'm in this chair with you all? I mean, why I earn the big bucks.
Peter Sullivan: Yes.
John Tuld: I'm here for one reason and one reason alone. I'm here to guess what the music might do a week, a month, a year from now. That's it. Nothing more. And standing here tonight, I'm afraid that I don't hear - a - thing. Just... Silence.
Rachel: A fucking 'Facebook' killer... You're kidding me right?
Chloe: I guess now it would be Twitter, that'd make more sense.
Bethany Hamilton: Love is bigger than any tidal wave, or fear.
Olivia: You have a family, your dad, your sister, Sydney! I don't even remember my mom, I haven't talked to my dad in years and you have the nerve to feel sorry for yourself?
