cop: [police break into McManus's apartment while he sleeps] Mr. McManus? McManus: [waking] Christ, don't you fucking guys ever sleep? cop: We have a warrant for your arrest. McManus: Fuck you, pig!
[after a hail of gunfire doesn't stop V] Creedy: Die! Die! Why won't you die?... Why won't you die? V: Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy, and ideas are bulletproof.
Charlie Bucket: Mr. Wonka, they won't really be burned in the furnace, will they? Willy Wonka: Hm... well, I think that furnace is only lit every other day, so they have a good sporting chance, haven't they?
Willy Wonka: No other factory in the world mixes its chocolate by waterfall. [gently whispering in Mr. Salt's ear] Willy Wonka: But it's the only way if you want it just right.
Mike Teevee: Wait till I get a real one. Colt 45. Pop won't let me have one yet, will ya, Pop? Mr. Teevee: Not till you're 12, son.
Senator Kelly: What'd you do with Henry? Magneto: Your aide, Mr. Gyrich, has been dead for some time, senator. I've had Mystique here keep you company. She takes so many shapes.
In London - and forget those extra public pressures on politicians - the lovely old Sloane world of manor houses simply hasn't cut it since Big Bang in 1986, the point at which Mrs. Thatcher really started to achieve her ambition to make this country...
I was always impressed by Betty Ford and what she went through and how full of integrity she was, and how brave. I think Mrs. Reagan was a role model of my mother's generation, intelligent, very supportive of her husband. I am very different from my ...
Richard Hannay: How far is Winnipeg from Montreal? Mr. Memory: A gentleman from Canada. You're welcome, sir. Winnipeg, the third city of Canada and the capital of Manitoba. Distance from Montreal: 1424 miles.
Mr. Smiley's Counter Girl: Whoa! You are so busted. Carolyn Burnham: You know, this really doesn't concern you. Lester Burnham: Well, actually, Janine is Senior Drive-thru Manager so you are on her turf.
Martha Brewster: [Mortimer is about to leave, but has Mr. Witherspoon's hat on] Hmm! Hmm! Mortimer Brewster: What, hmm hmm? Martha Brewster: The hat! Mortimer Brewster: [Notices hat and throws it on the ground] Argh! [slams door]
Charlie Allnut: I don't know why the Germans would want this God-forsaken place. Rose Sayer: God has not forsaken this place, Mr. Allnut, as my brother's presence here bears witness.
Rumack: I won't deceive you, Mr. Striker. We're running out of time. Ted Striker: Surely there must be something you can do. Rumack: I'm doing everything I can... and stop calling me Shirley!
Chip: Mama, there's a girl in the castle! Mrs. Potts: Now Chip, I won't have you making up such stories. Now into the tub. Chip: But mama! Featherduster: Madame! There is a girl in the castle! Chip: See! I told you.
David Huxley: So if you don't mind, Susan, I'll see Mr. Peabody alone, and unarmed. Susan Vance: Without me? David Huxley: Yes, without you, and *definitely* without you.
Mrs. Baker: You ain't shit. You just like your daddy. You don't do shit, and you never gonna amount to shit. All you do is eat, sleep, and shit.
Brandt: Her life is in your hands. The Dude: Man, don't say that, man. Brandt: Mr. Lebowski asked me to repeat that: her life is in your hands. The Dude: Oh, shit, man. Brandt: Her life is in your hands, Dude.
Captain Bennett: Albert Edward Rennick, used car salesman, Chicago. Walter Chalmers: Who's Rennick? Frank Bullitt: He was the man who was shot at the Hotel Daniels. You sent us to guard the wrong man, Mr. Chalmers.
Sam Lowry: I assure you, Mrs. Buttle, the Ministry is very scrupulous about following up and eradicating any error. If you have any complaints which you'd like to make, I'd be more than happy to send you the appropriate forms.
Philip Marlowe: [speaking into the phone] Hello, let me talk to Mr. Mars. Eddie Mars: This is Mars. Philip Marlowe: Oh, hello Eddie. This is Marlowe. Eddie Mars: Marlowe? Philip Marlowe: Yeah, Marlowe. Or, what's left of him.
Hedley Lamarr: My mind is a raging torrent, flooded with rivulets of thought cascading into a waterfall of creative alternatives. Taggart: God darnit, Mr. Lamarr, you use your tongue prettier than a twenty dollar whore.
