Genie: [as a group of cheerleaders] Rick 'em, rack 'em, rock 'em, rake! Stick that sword into that snake! Jafar: [as a snake] You stay out of thisss! Genie: [weakly] Jafar, Jafar, he's our man. If he can't do it, GREAT!
Antonio Salieri: I heard the music of true forgiveness filling the theater, conferring on all who sat there, perfect absolution. God was singing through this little man to all the world, unstoppable, making my defeat more bitter with every passing ba...
Real Harvey: [introducing on-screen character] Here's our man. Yeah, all right. Here's me. Well, the guy playin' me anyway. Even though he don't look nothin' like me. But, whatever.
Seth: [singing] My eyes have seen the glory of the trampling at the zoo, / We've washed ourselves in niggers blood and all the mongrels too, / We've taken down the zog machine Jew by Jew by Jew, / The white man marches on!
Curtis: [offscreen, to another skinhead] Hey man, want a toke? Derek Vinyard: Curtis, what are you doing? Weed is for niggers. You put that away right now. Have a little self respect.
Senior Ed Bloom: There's a time when a man needs to fight, and a time when he needs to accept that his destiny is lost... the ship has sailed and only a fool would continue. Truth is... I've always been a fool.
[complaining about TV news coverage] Doughboy: Either they don't know, don't show, or don't care about what's going on in the hood. They had all this foreign shit. They didn't have shit on my brother, man.
Nicolette: He killed our man. Conklin: What, in the apartment? Nicolette: Yeah. Conklin: Well, you got to clean that up. Nicolette: No, I can't clean it up; there's a body in the streets. Conklin: So? Nicolette: There's police. This is Paris.
The Dude: This is a very complicated case, Maude. You know, a lotta ins, a lotta outs, a lotta what-have-yous. And, uh, a lotta strands to keep in my head, man. Lotta strands in old Duder's head.
[after recovering his car from the Auto circus] The Dude: Oh, Jesus, what's that smell, man? Auto Circus Cop: Yes, probably a vagrant slept in the car. Or maybe just used it as a toilet and moved on.
Sir Charles Lyndon: Have you done with my Lady? Redmond Barry: I beg your pardon? Sir Charles Lyndon: Come, come, sir. I'm a man who would rather be known as a cuckold than a fool.
Captain Bennett: He let the killers in himself? Why would he do a thing like that? Frank Bullitt: I'm waiting to ask him. Captain Bennett: What about the setup? What do you make of that? Frank Bullitt: Shotgun and a backup man, professionals.
Sextus: You can break a man's skull, you can arrest him, you can throw him into a dungeon. But how do you control what's up here? [taps his head] Sextus: How do you fight an idea?
Gaff: You've done a man's job, sir. I guess you're through, huh? Deckard: Finished. [Gaff throws Deckard his gun] Gaff: It's too bad she won't live! But then again, who does?
Lili Von Shtupp: Vhy don't you admit it? He's too much of man for you. I know. You're going to need an army to beat him! You're finished. Fertig! Verfallen! Verlumpt! Verblunget! Verkackt!
Buck Laughlin: Am I nuts? Something's wrong with his feet. Trevor Beckwith: I never thought I'd find myself saying this, but you're right. Buck Laughlin: He's got two left feet! Man, go get'm pal.
And then there's also this element of - some people would describe it as spirits or a presence that appears when things are very difficult, physically and emotionally. You know, when you're really putting out. So the third man aura is sort of an appe...
So far things are going my way. I am known in the hospice as The Man Who Wouldn't Die. I don't know if this is true or not, but I think some people, not many, are starting to wonder why I'm still around.
Given Pounds and five years, and an ordinary man can in the ordinary course, without any undue haste or putting any pressure upon his taste, surround himself with books, all in his own language, and thence forward have at least one place in the world...
Man, like other organisms, is so perfectly coordinated that he may easily forget, whether awake or asleep, that he is a colony of cells in action, and that it is the cells which achieve, through him, what he has the illusion of accomplishing himself.
We have to abandon the idea that schooling is something restricted to youth. How can it be, in a world where half the things a man knows at 20 are no longer true at 40 - and half the things he knows at 40 hadn't been discovered when he was 20?
