Phil: I killed myself so many times I don't even exist anymore.
Miklo: What am I going to tell my parole officer?
Popeye: Tell him to suck his pee-pee.
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.
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.
Bruce Lee: The key to immortality is first living a life worth remembering.
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.
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?
Cindy: You are like wet sand in my underwear.
Jim: Ouch.
George Wilson: I can't stand that kid, he's a menace.
Pachanga: Sometime it bes that way, papi.
Wallace: Cracking toast, Gromit.
Mitch Leary: Do you have what it takes to take a bullet, or is life too precious?
Frank Horrigan: Well, I'll be thinkin' about that when I'm pissin' on your grave.
Mr. Lee: Take the money.
Bill Foster: You think I'm a thief? Oh, you see, I'm not the thief. I'm not the one charging 85 cents for a stinking soda! You're the thief. I'm just standing up for my rights as a consumer.
Jack Slater: Sir, are you a henchman?
Benedict: No, I only go as far as lackey.
Sarah: Help me! I don't want to die.
Gabe: You're not gonna die.
John Spartan: Brake! Brake! Brake now, you Mickey Mouse-piece of shit!
Gerry Conlon: What I remember most about my childhood is holding your hand. My wee hand in your big hand, and the smell of tobacco. I remember, I could smell the tobacco in the palm of your hand. When I want to feel happy, I try to remember the smell of tobacco.
Giuseppe Conlon: Hold my hand.
Santa: Haven't you heard of peace on Earth, and goodwill toward men?
Lock, Shock, Barrel: NO!
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.