Mary: You look at me as if you didn't know me. George Bailey: Well, I don't. Mary: You pass me on the street almost every day. George Bailey: Me? Naw, that was a little girl named Mary Hatch, that wasn't you.
Ebenezer Scrooge: Spirit, show me no more. Why do you delight in torturing me? Ghost of Christmas Past: I told you, these are the shadows of the things that have been. That they are what they are, do not blame me. Ebenezer Scrooge: Leave Me!
Sister Alma: Anaesthetise me... throw me away! No, I can't, I can't take any more! Leave me alone! It's shame, it's all shame! Leave me alone! I'm cold and rotten and indifferent! It's all just lies and imitation, all of it!
[Indiana needs his bullwhip to swing across a chasm] Indiana: Give me the whip. Satipo: Throw me the idol. No time to argue! Throw me idol, I'll throw you the whip! Indiana: [throws the idol] Give me the whip! Satipo: Adiós, señor.
Tiffany: You are afraid to be alive. You are afraid to live. You're a hypocrite. You're a conformist. You're a liar. I opened up to you and you judged me. You're an asshole. You're an asshole! Get off of me! He's harassing me! HE'S HARASSING ME!
Seth: Dude! That means that by some fate we were paired together and she thought of me. Thought of me enough to want me to be responsible for the entire funness of her party! She wants to fuck me! She wants my dick in or around her mouth!
Ricky Fitts: Excuse me for speaking so bluntly sir. But those fags make me want to puke my fucking guts out. Colonel Frank Fitts: [cautiously, after a long pause] Well, me too son. Me too.
The Roman Catholic Church, had it captured me, as it nearly did, would have sent me on some mission of danger and sacrifice and utilised me as a martyr; the Church established by law transformed me into an unbeliever and an antagonist.
Lord, give me what you have made me want; I praise and thank you for the desire that you have inspired; perfect what you have begun, and grant me who you have made me long for.
I always knew I was a writer. And I always thought to myself, 'Well, why not me?' Someone has to be on the best-seller list, 'Why not me?' Someone has to write for the 'New Yorker,' 'Why not me?' And I didn't really get much positive reinforcement as...
You know what makes me teary? Goya. Goya makes me cry.
For a moment, I felt like myself again. Not the new me, not the old me, just the real me.
That was the biggest thrill, going over to these guy's houses and having them want me to practice with them and they would show me a lot of stuff, which was really advanced stuff to me at my age.
He knew me. He knew me through and through and he found no shame in me.
Keep me safe, keep me from harm, keep me in your loving arms.
...fool me once, shame on me…fool me twice…I deserved to get fucked over.
I felt a lunatic’s laugh welling up inside me.
My friends are everything without me but I am nothing without my friends.
What else makes you hot?" You asking what makes me hot makes me hot.
My three best friends get me through everything: I need cute jeans, my kids are driving me crazy, I'm throwing a party, whatever. They keep me dialed in.
When people call me either a girl crush or their best friend, like, the best friend they want, that's, to me, the best compliment anyone could ever give me.
