Robin Hood: For my first order of business, I wish to appoint a new Sheriff of Rottingham. My friend, Achoo.
Achoo: All right.
Crowd: A black sheriff?
Blinkin: He's black?
Achoo: And why not? It worked in Blazing Saddles.
Hamm: Hey, do you want a S'more?
Scotty: Some more what?
Hamm: No, no. Do you want a S'more?
Scotty: I haven't had anything yet, so how can I have some more of nothing?
Hamm: You're killing me Smalls.
Mrs. Doubtfire: I hope you don't mind me being a tad rude, but... How was he? You know, on a scale of 1 to 10?
Miranda: Well, that part was always... Okay.
Mrs. Doubtfire: Just okay? Well, he was probably a Casanova compared to poor old Winston.
Miranda: What was the matter with Winston?
Mrs. Doubtfire: Oh dear, Winston's idea of foreplay was "Effie, brace yourself."
Debbie: Isn't he a lady killer?
Gomez Addams: Acquitted.
Crawl: Let's just get the rules straight here. There'll be absolutely no partying in this hall between the hours of 5 and 6 in the morning, without my express written permission. OK cool. Carry on.
Josef Grul: Hey, Jamaica! Watch out for Number Twelve turn. Scary, ja?
Derice Bannock: What's his problem?
Irv: He's Josef Grul. He's one of the best drivers in the world.
Yul Brenner: Yeah, he's one of the biggest assholes in the world, too.
Phil: I killed myself so many times I don't even exist anymore.
Luigi: Do you eat?
Princess Daisy: Yes.
Luigi: Dinner?
Princess Daisy: Yes.
Luigi: Tonight?
Jack Colt: Who are you?
Mr. Jigsaw: I'm your worst nightmare.
Jack Colt: No, waking up without my penis is my worst nightmare.
Annie Reed: Now that was when people knew how to be in love. They knew it! Time, distance... nothing could separate them because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was.
Becky: A movie! That's your problem! You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie.
Caroline: He was like an angel, you know? I never knew life could be like that. He was the one thing I followed through in my life, the one thing I didn't give up on. I was good at loving him.
Honey Horneé: Take me, Garth!
Garth Algar: Where? I'm low on gas and you need a jacket.
Honey Horneé: I'm gonna be frank.
Garth Algar: OK. Can I still be Garth?
John Spartan: Brake! Brake! Brake now, you Mickey Mouse-piece of shit!
Wallace: Cracking toast, Gromit.
Jack Slater: Sir, are you a henchman?
Benedict: No, I only go as far as lackey.
George Wilson: I can't stand that kid, he's a menace.
Charlie Mackenzie: Harriet. Harry-ette. Hard-hearted harbinger of haggis. Beautiful, bemuse-ed, bellicose butcher. Un-trust... ing. Un-know... ing. Un-love... ed?"He wants you back," he screamed into the night air like a fireman going to a window that has no fire... except the passion of his heart. I am lonely. It's really hard. This poem... sucks.
Ms. Stroud: Okay guys, one more thing, this summer when you're being inundated with all this American bicentennial Fourth of July brouhaha, don't forget what you're celebrating, and that's the fact that a bunch of slave-owning, aristocratic, white males didn't want to pay their taxes.
Regina: If you want your dog back, call my lawyer.