Young Sophie: Lets run! Don't fight them, Howl! Howl: Sorry, I've had enough of running away, Sophie. Now I've got something I want to protect. It's you.
Old Sophie: I wonder what Howl disguised himself as? Surely not a crow. Can't be a pigeon, he's too flamboyant for that. [a glider plane with a giggling young woman and her lover flies overhead] Old Sophie: That could be him.
Howl: You didn't have to come back, Calcifer. Calcifer: Yeah, I kinda missed you guys, and it looks like it's gonna rain. Young Sophie: I missed you too, Calcifer.
Priest: I would be remiss in my duty, if I did not tell you, that the idea of... intercourse - your firm, young... body... comingling with... withered flesh... sagging breasts... flabby b-b-buttocks... makes me want... to vomit.
Bridget von Hammersmark: I can vouch for everything the young captain has just said. He *does* hail from the bottom of Piz Palu. He *was* in the film, and his brother *is* far more handsome than he.
The Bride: [spanking a young member of the Crazy 88s with her sword] This is what you get for fucking around with Yakuzas! [with a last spank, lets him go] The Bride: Go home to your mother!
Timon: Look, kid. Bad things happen, and you can't do anything about it. Right? Young Simba: Right. Timon: Wrong! When the world turns its back on you, you turn your back on the world.
Jack Crabb: I was determined to stay out of them buffalo robes. Three young and healthy women with no man for who knows how long. The very idea kinda shrunk me like a spider on a hot stove.
Young Cosette: There is a lady all in white, holds me and sings a lullaby, she's nice to hear and she's soft to touch, she says "Cosette, I love you very much."
American journalist: If you were to give advice to a woman, what would it be? Edith Piaf: Love. American journalist: To a young girl? Edith Piaf: Love. American journalist: To a child? Edith Piaf: Love.
Grandpa: Listen to me, I got no reason to lie to you, don't make the same mistakes I made when I was young. Fuck a lotta women kid, not just one woman, a lotta women.
Max Jerry Horovitz: When I was young, I invented an invisible friend called Mr Ravioli. My psychiatrist says I don't need him anymore, so he just sits in the corner and reads.
Satine: I can't believe it. I'm in love. I'm in love with a young, handsome, talented duke. Christian: Duke? Satine: Not that the title's important, of course. Christian: I'm not a duke. Satine: Not a duke? Christian: I'm a writer. Satine: A writer?
Barbara Covett: I had expected a suave young lawyer, and two perfect poppets. Not so. She's married some crumbling patriarch, he's nearly as old as me. And there's the daughter, a pocket princess. And finally, a somewhat tiresome court jester.
Diana Christensen: Well Max, here we are: Middle-aged man reaffirming his middle-aged manhood, and a terrified young woman with a father complex. What sort of script do you think we can make out of this?
Young Noah: So it's not gonna be easy. It's going to be really hard; we're gonna have to work at this everyday, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, forever, everyday. You and me... everyday.
Bob Slydell: I'd like to move us right along to a Peter Gibbons. Now we had a chance to meet this young man, and boy that's just a straight shooter with upper management written all over him.
Dr. Zaius: Ah, yes - the young ape with a shovel. I hear you're planning another archeological expedition. Cornelius, a friendly word of warning - as you dig for artifacts, be sure you don't bury your reputation.
Flora: She says no. She says she'd rather be boiled alive by natives than get back on your stinkin' tub. Head Seaman: You be damn fortuned I don't smack your puppy gob, young missy. Damn lucky!
Brandon: The good Americans usually die young on the battlefield, don't they? Well, the Davids of this world merely occupy space, which is why he was the perfect victim for the perfect murder. Course he, uh, he was a Harvard undergraduate. That might...
Sabrina Fairchild: I might as well be reaching for the moon. Baron St. Fontanel: The moon? Baron St. Fontanel: [laughs] Oh, you young people! You are so old-fashioned. Have you not heard? We are building rockets to reach the moon!
