Commissioner Gillian B. Loeb: How'd they get my DNA? Lt. James Gordon: Someone with access to your house or office must have lifted a tissue or a... glass. [realizing as Loeb takes a sip of whiskey] Lt. James Gordon: Wait, WAIT! [Loeb chokes]
Melvin Udall: Where do they teach you to talk like this? In some Panama City "Sailor wanna hump-hump" bar, or is it getaway day and your last shot at his whiskey? Sell crazy someplace else, we're all stocked up here.
Herman Blume: Take it easy, Max. Rosemary Cross: You were the one that ordered him a whiskey and soda. Max Fischer: So what's wrong with that? I can write a hit play. Why can't I have a little drink to unwind myself?
It was just so in the American Revolution, in 1776, the first delicacy the men threw overboard in Boston harbor was the tea, woman's favorite beverage. The tobacco and whiskey, though heavily taxed, they clung to with the tenacity of the devil-fish.
Commissioner Gillian B. Loeb: [regarding The Joker's threat on his life] You're unlikely to discover this for yourself, so take my word, the police commissioner gets a lot of threats. I found the appropriate response to these situations a long time a...
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: [Randy brings Frank a glass of whiskey] Thank you Randy. You still with Snowqueen Sugar? Randy: Snowflake. How come you always get that wrong? Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Because it's not important for me to get it right.
Coleman: [offering Billy Ray a sip from his flask; Coleman dressed as a priest, Billy Ray in African garb] Would you like a sip of whiskey? Billy Ray Valentine: I do not drink, it is against my religion! Coleman: Religion is a good thing I say, taken...
Darien Taylor: When you've had money and lost it, it can be much worse than never having had it at all! Bud Fox: That is BULLSHIT! [throws a whiskey bottle destructively; Darien starts to leave] Bud Fox: HEY! HEY! You step out that door, and I am *ch...
Lureen Newsome: He always said he wanted his ashes scattered on Brokeback Mountain, but I wasn't sure where that was. I thought Brokeback Mountain might be around where he grew up. Knowing Jack, it was probably some pretend place, where bluebirds sin...
I was very lucky to be offered a lovely piece of property to build a career on. I started building a house on it, but it wasn't necessarily a house I would want to live in. So I ripped down that house, and I worked with these great lumberjacks to bui...
He'd been a fool, he saw that now. How could he have thought, even for a minute, that they'd be safe out here in the suburbs? The world was violent, rotten, corrupt, seething with hatred and perversion, and there was no escaping it. Everything you wo...
Hemingway is overrated, Twain is even more lost at sea, And all truths point to the mouth of a woman, Where both her whispers and her screams, Are born. Pour another glass, Beer, wine, whiskey, I don't care, So long as its wisdom is sharp, And it tel...
I've always felt that distant train whistles heard in the dead of night are the universe's way of letting us know the best days are neither ahead nor behind us...they're happening right now, cradled in the palms of our hands. But that doesn't change ...
Sometimes life is sad. You can cry in your booze, if you want. I think that’s called a Whiskey Sour.
A movie playing on the TV screen in front of us. Some sort of bad Tom Cruise drama. I've never liked Tom Cruise. He always reminded me of someone's creepy cousin, who smiles too big before he touches your butt and whispers something gross in your ear...
I don’t like ice in my whiskey. I like bullets. Why? Because for every ice cube I don’t use, an Eskimo gets to keep one square inch of his igloo. So I’m saving twice the lives by using bullets and not using ice.
M. Gustave: If I die first, and I almost certainly will, you will be my sole heir. There's not much in the kitty, except a set of ivory-backed hairbrushes and my library of romantic poetry, but when the time comes, these will be yours. Along with wha...
Floyd: It's Liberty! He - he's hurt! [Doc approaches Valance's body] Floyd: It's Liberty. Doc Willoughby: Whiskey, quick. Person on street: Here, sir. Doc Willoughby: [takes a drink, turns Valances body over with his foot] Dead. [walks off]
It ain't that you get religion. Religion gets you and then milks you dry. Won't let you drink a little whiskey. Won't let you make no fat-assed girls grin and giggle. Won't let you do a damn thing except work for what you'll get in the hearafter. I l...
This was the purest instant he had ever experienced; the way he felt inside right then. If he had to be trapped in a forever he would choose this very moment. The black night, the few yellow leaves still clinging to the bare trees, the beautiful dark...
...with a rush of feeling he felt that this must be happiness. As soon as the thought came to him, he fought it back, blaming the whiskey. The very idea was as dangerous as presumptive speech: happiness could not be sought or worried into being, or e...
