Flying Snow: How swift thy sword.
Frankie Delano: You ever read this book?
Bruno: Have I ever read that book? Not only does that insult my intelligence but it insults my ignorance. Why would a man like me, who happens to like himself, be caught dead reading a bit of boy toy fluff like that?
Frankie Delano: Because it's a killer.
Jerome Davenport: "Regard without ill-will despite an offense." That's Webster's definition of forgiveness.
Antwone Fisher: Why do I have to forgive?
Jerome Davenport: So you can get on with your life.
Catherine: Suzon, I forgot one thing. I heard a strange sound. I looked through Augustine's keyhole, and I saw her standing at the mirror with something shiny. I thought nothing of it, but now I'm sure she was sharpening a knife.
Augustine: You liar! I was holding my mother-of-pearl comb and cleaning it.
Gaby: At 3:00 am?
Augustine: Combs never sleep.
Mr. Crummles: Happiness is a gift and the trick is not to expect it, but to delight in it when it comes.
Valerie Gipson: Whatever drama you've gotten yourself into, it's just the kind of thing that always happens to you. And it never happens to me unless I am in your field of gravity.
Conspiracy Brother: Jesus Christ: black man. Babe Ruth: black man. Madonna: ... slept with black men.
Jake: Just how I like 'em... all big and big-like.
Rain: She bit me man! I mean she took a chunk clean right out of me!
Connor: I don't know what it is she's afraid of. It's like she always thinks the bottom will drop out.
Vivi: I think you know why she thinks that, don't you, honey? Because it did. It always did.
Diego Rivera: Thank you.
Frida Kahlo: For what?
Diego Rivera: For making a fat, old, crazy Communist a happy man.
Sam: What thousands must die, so that Caesar may become the great.
Pluto Nash: You blew up my wood bar stools. You know how hard it is to get wood on the moon?
Dr. Ben Sobel: I am grieving. It's a process.
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.
Ricky: We don't need reparations! We need restraint.
Billy: "Restraint"?
Ricky: "Restraint"! Some discipline! Don't go out and buy a Range Rover when you livin' with your mama! And pay your mama some rent! And can we please, please, please try and teach our kids something other than the "Chronic" album? And please, Black people, try and be on time for something other than free before eleven at the club.
Emery: Where are Nick and Cathy, they should've been back by now. Why'd she have to go off on her own, anyway? That was extremely stupid.
Numérobis: Raté, vous nous avez raté! Eh les romains, vous êtes des romaines .