Travis Bickle: Each night when I return the cab to the garage, I have to clean the cum off the back seat. Some nights, I clean off the blood.
Personnel Officer: How's your driving record? Clean? Travis Bickle: It's clean, real clean. Like my conscience.
Travis Bickle: Let me tell you something. You're in a hell, and you're gonna die in a hell, just like the rest of 'em!
I wish I could write 'Taxi Driver,' or 'Blue Velvet,' something brave, audacious, dramatic and dark. I don't know if I have the darkness in my own soul to be able to tap into it, unfortunately.
Travis Bickle: Loneliness has followed me my whole life, everywhere. In bars, in cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere. There's no escape. I'm God's only man.
Travis Bickle: I realize now how much she's just like the others, cold and distant, and many people are like that, women for sure, they're like a union.
Travis Bickle: The idea had been growing in my brain for some time: TRUE force. All the king's men cannot put it back together again.
Passenger: Have you ever seen what a .44 Magnum will do to a woman's pussy? Now that you should see. What a .44 Magnum will do to a woman's pussy that you should see?
Wizard: Hey Travis, this here's Doughboy. We call him that 'cause he'll do anything for a buck. Doughboy: Hi Travis. Got change of a nickel?
Travis Bickle: You're a young girl, you should be at home. You should be dressed up, going out with boys, going to school, you know, that kind of stuff.
I come from nowhere Brooklyn, New York. Williamsburg, Brooklyn. These days Williamsburg is kind of a hip area, but when I grew up there, the taxi drivers wouldn't even go over the bridge, it was so dangerous.
Personnel Officer: Wanna work uptown at nights? South Bronx? Harlem? Travis Bickle: I'll work anytime, anywhere. Personnel Officer: Will you work on Jewish holidays? Travis Bickle: Anytime, anywhere.
Iris: I don't like what I'm doing, Sport. Sport: Ah, baby, I don't want you to like what you're doing. If you like what you're doing, then you won't be my woman.
Taxi-drivers in Frankfurt are said to dislike the annual Book Fair because literary folk, instead of being shuttled to prostitutes like respectable members of other convening professions, prefer to stay in their hotels and fuck one another
Travis Bickle: Listen, you fuckers, you screwheads. Here is a man who would not take it anymore. A man who stood up against the scum, the cunts, the dogs, the filth, the shit. Here is a man who stood up.
Travis Bickle: I first saw her at Palantine Campaign headquarters at 63rd and Broadway. She was wearing a white dress. She appeared like an angel. Out of this filthy mess, she is alone. They... cannot... touch... her.
Clark: [after being in the desert for too long, Clark begins to go insane] Taxi! Taxi! Taxi! Dead. I'm dead. Taxi! Here boy! The heat. Darn. I'm dead. I'm finished. Hot! Hot!
That conversation with the taxi driver suddenly made clear to me the essence of the writer's occupation. We write books because our children aren't interested in us. We address ourselves to an anonymous world because our wives plug their ears when we...
A couple of taxi drivers have asked me if we can survive financially as an independent nation. I say, how come we are more stupid than Denmark or Finland or Sweden? They've all got the same amount of people. Are we all going to down tools? Is everybo...
We are Americans. We - we - we are - we are doctors. We are investment bankers. We are taxi drivers. We are store keepers. We are lawyers. We are - we are part of the fabric of America. And the way that America today treats its Muslims is being watch...
Mitch Murphy: [about the taxi-van] How fast does this thing go? Does it have automatic transmission? Does it have four-wheel drive? Airport Driver: Look, I told you before, kid. Don't bother me. Now beat it.