
Louden Swain: But all I ever settled for is that we're born to live and then to die, and... we got to do it alone, each in his own way. And I guess that's why we got to love those people who deserve it like there's no tomorrow. 'Cause when you get right down to it - there isn't.

Brian Johnson: Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. But we think you're crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us - in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain...
Andrew Clark:...and an athlete...
Allison Reynolds:...and a basket case...
Claire Standish:...a princess...
John Bender:...and a criminal...
Brian Johnson: Does that answer your question? Sincerely yours, the Breakfast Club.

Kyoami: Are there no gods... no Buddha? If you exist, hear me. You are mischievous and cruel! Are you so bored up there you must crush us like ants? Is it such fun to see men weep?
Tango: Enough! Do not blaspheme! It is the gods who weep. They see us killing each other over and over since time began. They can't save us from ourselves.

Leroy Green: I do not even have a paint brush.

Patsy Cline: I can't stand it. Makes me want to scream and claw my face.

Anne Shirley: Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it.

Charley Partanna: Do I ice her? Do I marry her?

Karen Blixen: If I know a song of Africa, of the giraffe and the African new moon lying on her back, of the plows in the fields and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers, does Africa know a song of me? Will the air over the plain quiver with a color that I have had on, or the children invent a game in which my name is, or the full moon throw a shadow over the gravel of the drive that was like me, or will the eagles of the Ngong Hills look out for me?

Rusty Dennis: First you told me he was gonna be retarded, then you told me he was gonna be blind and deaf. If I'd dug his grave every time one of you geniuses told me he was gonna die, I'd be eating fuckin' chop suey in China by now.

Sister Agnes: I don't understand what you're talking about. You want to talk about the baby, everbody wants to talk about the baby. But, I never saw the baby. So I can't talk about the baby, because I don't believe in the baby.

Diana: Elvis wouldn't do this, and I knew HIM.
Charlie: You didn't know him! You may have fucked him, but you didn't know HIM.

Sheila: You were a rotten dancer.
Zach: Why do you think I became your choreographer?

Rachel Lapp: Are you enjoying your reading?
John Book: Oh yeah. I'm learning a lot about manure. Very interesting.