Babe: Open up, please. Open this door. Zootie: You got a problem, sweetie? Babe: Um... uh. Bob: Who is it, honey? Zootie: It's, uh... kind of a baldy, pinky, whitey thingy.
Bob: All I know is what I see. Tug comes in with the bag, just doin' his job, collectin' stuff, and you barge in here accusacating and making demandments.
The Narrator: Something broke through the terror - flickerings, fragments of his short life, the random events that delivered him to this, his moment of annihilation. As terror gave way to exhaustion, Babe turned to his attacker, his eyes filled with one simple question: Why?
Farmer Hoggett: That'll do, pig. That'll do.
Flealick: Well, hey, slow down. If you're not a cat, stay and chat.
Babe: I'm not a porkpie. Zootie: Whatever you say, cutie pie. Babe: I'm not any kind of pie. I'm just a pig on a mission.
Bob: Hey, dogs, you got any edibles? Any nibbley-dibbleys? Flealick: Eh, we got a carpet here with some nice spaghetti stains. Nigel: But we can't keep licking the carpet, can we, Alan?
Babe: You're very kind, but. The Pitbull: No, no, I'm anything but kind. In fact, I have a professional obligation to be malicious. Babe: Then you should change jobs.
Snoop: I'm a sniffer, ya see. A fully qualified, triple-certificated sniffer. Babe: Oh. Snoop: It's all in the hooter, the schnoz, the olfactory instrument. You could be a sniffer with a schnoz like that.
Thelonius: This lowly, handless, deeply unattractive mudlover is a pig.
Babe: Well, I have to warn you, I may be small, but I can be ferocious if provoked.
Zootie: It's a dog-eat-dog world, and there's not enough dog to go around.
Babe: Sorry, Boss.
Zootie: We're going outside? Without a human? Could be kind of dangerous, you know, in a lethally sort of way.
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