Rose Da Silva: Farewell my love.
Joyce Brewster: You want me to go to one of Gayle's miserable singles event? That's what you want? You want me whoring myself out? Put on a thong?
Andrew Brewster: I'm going to sleep now, Ma.
Debbie: I don't want to shop at old lady stores. I don't want to go to J. Jill and Chico's and Ann Taylor.
Joe Gargery: London, what a place... Course I wouldn't keep a pig in it myself.
Goldberg: Forget everything you know about racing. Desert-racing isn't about speed, it's about endurance and handling.
Carl Lucas: Hang on, I thought you didn't know shit about this kind of racing?
Goldberg: I don't. It's the first thing that came up on Google.
Cheryl: I understand you're able to have an erection.
Mark O'Brien: Not by choice.
Jean: Are you telling me to go out and smell the roses?
Cissy Robson: Oh no. We're telling you the roses are long gone. But the chrysanthemums are magnificent.
James Bonomo: What are we, fucking Vikings?
Robbie: He does not like you.
Ben: What? Who? Who does not like me?
Robbie: You'll find out.
Charlotte Bless: I'm not gonna blow a friendship over a stupid little blowjob.
Adam: Up-top, they always win, And down-below, we always fail.
Archie: Damn, baby. Feel like you're playing piano on my dick, like you're playing Mozart.
The Major: Perhaps, sir, since out little caper is far from over, perhaps we should consider removing the cartilage.
Harry Deane: Don't be an ass, man. I'm hardly likely to be hit in the face a third time.
The Major: Uh, that was the third time, sir.
Harry Deane: This isn't a math class.
The Blacksmith: When it comes to money, things get funny.
Luke: He can get his own girl and his own kid, that's every man's right.
Jim Grant: Secrets are a dangerous thing, Ben. We all think we want to know them, but if you've kept one to yourself, you come to understand that doing so, you may learn something about someone else, but you also discover something about yourself. I hope you're ready for that.
Brenda Hesson: There are all kinds of sons. Some are born to you, some just occur to you.
Claude Garcia: But I love you.
Esther Artole: No. It's not me you love. It's an image. An image in your head.