Cole Porter: I think we define "woman" differently. I don't define it as "punching bag", for example.
Cole Porter: Miss Morrison. The line is "away we go" not "off we go", dear. You couldn't manage to make me hear you before and now that I can hear you, you've got it wrong.
Linda Porter: You knew so much about me when we met Cole, don't you think I'd heard a thing or two about you?
Cole Porter: Then you know that I... that I can be... that I have outside interests the pursuit of which may seem unfair to you?
Linda Porter: You mean men?
Cole Porter: Yes, men.
Linda Porter: Let's just say you like them more than I do.
Cole Porter: Isn't that Linda Lee Thomas with Sara?
Gerald Murphy: I don't know.
Cole Porter: It is, just as they described, the most beautiful divorcée in Paris. My God, she's ravishing.
Gerald Murphy: Is this going to be another Cole Porter obsession without preliminaries?
Cole Porter: Obsessions don't have preliminaries.
Cole Porter: I really can't do it justice. Wait until opening night, hear it sung properly.
Linda Porter: I think it sounds fine now. And I won't be there dear.
Cole Porter: What? Why wouldn't you be?
Linda Porter: You know the doctors.
Cole Porter: I wrote this for you. Why play it if you won't be there?
Linda Porter: That's why I want you to play it for me now. All the way through.
William Hundert: Sir, it's my job to mold your son, and I think if.
Senator Bell: Mold him? Jesus God in Heaven, son. You're not gonna mold my boy. Your job is to teach my son. You teach him his times tables. Teach him why the world is round. Teach him who killed who and when and where. That is your job. You, sir, will not mold my son. I will mold him.
William Hundert: Great ambition and conquest without contribution is without significance. What will your contribution be? How will history remember you?
William Hundert: The waters in which we found ourselves swimming, were precisely as lovely as those we had earlier only imagined. But if time had made concessions for love, it made none for death.
Willa Weston: What are you doing?
Vince McCain: I'm freezing him.
Willa Weston: Why?
Vince McCain: He's gotta be cryogenically frozen until they find a cure.
Willa Weston: Yeah, a cure? Vince, he has a bullet in the brain.
Vince McCain: Well, get more ice.
Willa Weston: Vince, there is no cure for a bullet in the brain. It is very fatal.
Willa Weston: You really don't like animals, do you?
Vince McCain: No, it's not that I don't like them, I just don't see the point. I remember, when I was five, my mother got me this... dog. Pft. I just didn't get it. I suppose I had nothing I needed fetched. So I sold him.
Willa Weston: How sad.
Vince McCain: Oh, he got over it.
Otto: Don't call me stupid.
Wanda: Oh, right, to call you stupid would be an insult to stupid people! I've known sheep that could outwit you. I've worn dress with higher IQ's. But you think you're an intellectual, don't you, ape?
Otto: Apes don't read philosophy.
Wanda: Yes they do, Otto, they just don't understand it. Now let me correct you on a couple things, okay? Aristotle was not Belgian. The central message of Buddhism is not "every man for himself." And the London Underground is not a political movement. Those are all mistakes, Otto, I looked them up.
Otto: Now, apologize.
Archie: Are you totally deranged?
Otto: [long pause.] You pompous, stuck-up, snot-nosed, English, giant twerp scumbag, fuck-face dickhead asshole!
Archie: How very interesting. You're a true vulgarian, aren't you?
Otto: You're the vulgarian, you fuck! Now apologize.
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