Bob Crane: I think it's perfect for me. I mean, this character Hogan, he's quick on his toes, he's hip, he's a con artist. I don't wanna jinx it, but I think it's what I've been working toward my whole career.
Anne Crane: Really? You've been working towards a Holocaust comedy?
Bob Crane: Ann.
Anne Crane: What, Bob?
Bob Crane: Please, not in front of the children! They look up to me.
Anne Crane: They're small. They look up to everyone.
Bob Crane: I'm a normal, red-blooded American man. I like to look at naked women. I love breasts, any kind. I love 'em! Boobs, bazooms, balloons, bags, bazongas. The bigger, the better. Nipples like udders, nipples like saucers, big pale rosy-brown nipples. Little bitty baby nipples. Real or fake, what's the difference? I like tits. Who's kidding who? Tits are great.
Miller: When you peddled that shit in DC, did they know it was a lie? Or did they just never bother to ask?
Clark Poundstone: Okay, okay. Come on, none of this matters anymore. WMD? This doesn't matter.
Miller: What the fuck you talking about? Of course it fucking matters! The reasons we go to war always matter! It's all that matters! It fucking matters!
Steve Miller: Sometimes you have to be apart from the people you love, but that doesn't make you love them any less. Sometimes it makes you love them more.
Maude Larrabee: David, you're like my own son.
David Larrabee: I am your own son, Mother.
Maude Larrabee: Exactly! Now, I endured twenty-one hours of hard labor to bring you into the world. The doctors begged me to take drugs, but I kept saying I wouldn't do anything to hurt my child. Well, I've changed my mind - you screw up with Elizabeth and I swear I'll kill you.
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