Patton: There's only one proper way for a professional soldier to die: the last bullet of the last battle of the last war.
Soldier: Where ya goin', General?
Patton: Berlin! I'm going to personally shoot that paper-hangin' son of a bitch.
Patton: Now, an army is a team - it lives, eats, sleeps, fights as a team. This individuality stuff is a bunch of crap. The bilious bastards who wrote that stuff about individuality for the Saturday Evening Post don't know anything more about real battle than they do about fornicating.
Capt. Richard N. Jenson: They haven't spotted our positions yet.
Patton: They will get some education in about 10 seconds when they get a dose of our artillery fire.
Patton: I've always felt that I was destined for some great achievement, what I don't know.
Sgt. William Meeks: Yes, sir.
Patton: The last great opportunity of a lifetime - an entire world at war, and I'm left out of it? God will not permit this to happen! I will be allowed to fulfill my destiny! His will be done.
Patton: Now, there's one thing that you men will be able to say when you get back home. And you may thank God for it. Thirty years from now, when you're sitting around your fireside with your grandson on your knee and he asks you, "What did you do in the great World War II," you won't have to say, "Well... I shoveled shit in Louisiana."
Lt. Col. Charles R. Codman: You know General, sometimes the men don't know when you're acting.
Patton: It's not important for them to know. It's only important for me to know.
Patton: This is where it pays off, the training and the discipline. No other outfit in the world could pull out of a winter battle, move a hundred miles, go into a major attack with no rest, no sleep, no hot food. God... God, I'm proud of these men.
Patton: Almighty and most merciful Father, we humbly beseech Thee of Thy great goodness to restrain this immoderate weather with which we have had to contend. Grant us fair weather for battle. Graciously harken to us as solders who call upon Thee that, armed with Thy power, we may advance from victory to victory, and crush the oppression and wickedness of our enemies, and establish Thy justice among men and nations. amen.
Patton: In about fifteen minutes, we're going to start turning these boys into fanatics - razors. They'll lose their fear of the Germans. I only hope to God they never lose their fear of me.
Capt. Richard N. Jenson: What are you doing there, soldier?
Soldier getting up from floor: Trying to get some sleep, sir.
Patton: Well, get back down there, son. You're the only son of a bitch in this headquarters who knows what he's trying to do.
General Omar N. Bradley: There's one big difference between you and me, George. I do this job because I've been trained to do it. You do it because you love it.
Soldier: What silly son of a bitch is in charge of this operation?
General Omar N. Bradley: I don't know, but they oughta hang him.
Patton: Look at that, gentlemen. Compared to war, all other forms of human endeavor shrink to insignificance.
Patton: Now, we have the finest food and equipment, the best spirit, and the best men in the world. You know, I actually pity those poor Hun bastards we're going up against, by God, I do. We're not just going to shoot the bastards, we're going to cut out their living guts and use them to grease the treads on our tanks. We're going to murder those lousy Hun bastards by the bushel.
Patton: God, how I hate the twentieth century.
Doctor: I can't wear my helmet and use a stethoscope.
Patton: Well, then cut two holes in your helmet and see that you can.
Patton: The Nazis are the enemy. Wade into them. Spill their blood. Shoot them in the belly. When you put your hand into a bunch of goo that a moment before was your best friend's face, you'll know what to do.
Patton: Now there's another thing I want you to remember. I don't want to get any messages saying that "we are holding our position." We're not holding anything. Let the Hun do that. We are advancing constantly and we're not interested in holding onto anything except the enemy. We're going to hold onto him by the nose and we're going to kick him in the ass. We're going to kick the hell out of him all the time and we're going to go through him like crap through a goose.
Lt. Col. Charles R. Codman: Shall I call the artist back sir?
Patton: To hell with it. Nobody wants to see a picture of me, I'm mad! Didn't you know that?