Ewan McGregorQuotes

Greg Platt: We're gonna survive.

Greg Platt: God's not gonna let us die here.

Greg Platt: Oh, my god, run!

Greg Platt: How the hell is that even possible?

Curt Wild: Heroin used to be my main man. You could be my main man.

Curt Wild: See yourself on stage, inside-out. Tangled garlands in your hair. Of course, you are pleasantly surprised.

Curt Wild: The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history. (Oscar Wilde - from the Picture of Dorian Gray)

Curt Wild: He thought he fucking was Maxwell Demon in the end – you know? And Maxwell Demon...he thought he was God.

Curt Wild: Everyone’s into this scene because it’s supposedly the thing to do right now. But you just can’t fake being gay. You know, if you’re gonna claim that you’re gay you’re gonna have to make love in gay style, and most of these kids... just aren’t going to make it. That line, ‘Everybody’s bisexual’, that’s a very popular thing to say right now. Personally, I think it’s meaningless.

Alex Law: Hello. It's been a struggle, but now the days of worry are over, the light at the end of the tunnel has expanded into a golden sunrise and at last, at long last, nothing will ever be the same again.

Alex Law: I don't know why we couldn't stuff it in a mattress or put it under the floor like any normal human being. We could have hid it in the fridge.

Alex Law: (speaking to Juliet Miller) But you're a doctor! You kill people every day.

Alex Law: God, you two are sensitive! All I'm doing is implying some kind of ugly sordid sexual liaison. I'd be proud of that sort of thing.

Alex Law: I'd like to ask you about your hobbies... Now when you sacrifice a goat and you rip its heart out with your bare hands, do you then summon hellfire? Or do you just send out for a pizza?

Alex Law: When was the last time you heard these exact words: "You are the sunshine of my life"?

Alex Law: I mean this: good luck!

Alex Law: So tell me, Cameron, what on earth—just tell me, because I want to know—what on earth could make you think that we would want to share a flat like this with someone like you? I mean, my first impression, and they're rarely wrong, is that you have none of the qualities that we would normally seek in a prospective flatmate. I'm talking here about things like presence, charisma, style and charm, and I don't think we're being unreasonable. Take David here, for instance: a chartered accountant he may be, but at least he tries hard. The point is, I don't think you're even trying.

Andy Barrow: The only reason I get up in the morning is to see if my luck's changed. And it never bloody has.

Lyn Cassady: How was it. I used my power for evils. It's if I brought a curse on all of us. It's like the poem with the guy kills a eagle and make him wear around his neck. Every night, I've dream about that goat, its mouth opening and closing without making a sound.

Bob Wilton: The silence of the goats.

Bob Wilton: [[LSD] Don't eat the eggs. We put ] in the eggs.

Bill Django: [[water] And the ]. I put LSD in the main water tank.

Bob Wilton: What? But, we drank the water!

Bill Django: Yeah!

Lyn Cassady: It's ok, you can "attack" me...

Bob Wilton: What's with the quotation fingers? It's like saying I'm only capable of ironic attacking or something.

Lyn Cassady: [[understand; [reality; [dance] Once you ] the linkage between observation and ] then you begin to ] with invisibility.

Bob Wilton: Like camouflage.

Lyn Cassady: No, it's not like camouflage.

Bob Wilton: [[Jesus] ], Lyn. You had like the whole desert to drive in, Lyn!

Bob Wilton: [[need; [w:Jedi|Jedi] Now, more than ever, we ] the ]!

Bob Wilton: [[person; [kill] Every single one of Bill's soldiers fired high. They instinctively hadn't wanted to shoot another ]. Later, Bill would come across a study which revealed that only 15-20% of fresh soldiers shot to ]. The rest aimed high, didn't fire at all, or pretended to be busy doing something else.

Mark: And it's midnight. Start again.

Renton: [[w:George Best|Georgie Best; [w:Playboy Playmate|Playboy models; [w:champagne|champagne] So, there's this room service guy, right? And he comes into the room, and there is ] lying on the bed with two ]. Three in a bed, ] and a little bit of Charlie, and there's banknotes. But they're lying on the banknotes.

Veronika: Lying on the money?

Mark: Yes.

Veronika: Why?

Mark: I don't know. Because he has a lot of money. Or at least he had a lot of money at the time, anyway. The room service guy, he comes in, and he sees this scene that I just described to you, and he says, "George Best...

Simon: Greatest footballer of all time.

Mark: Exactly. "The greatest footballer of all time, I have to ask you, "'Where did it all go wrong?'" Where did it all go wrong? Where did it all go wrong? Where did it all go wrong, George Best?

Veronika: Yeah, but... I think that the room service guy, you know... I think he makes a very good point. No?

Mark: [[w:Hibernian F.C.|Hibs; [w:Fort Lauderdale Strikers|Fort Lauderdale Strikers; [w:San Jose Earthquakes|San Jose Earthquakes] He played for ] in 1979 between stints for the ] and the ]. I went to see him play, apparently. My dad took me. He said, "You've got to see this. You've got to see this player. "Got to see this greatest footballer of all time." So it was a big game, it was a big crowd, and a big guy in front of me. I couldn't see a thing. Not a single thing. Not for 90 minutes. But I've got the program, so... I mean, I've always got that, you know?

Mark: Thin. Thin. Nobody was fat back then.

Simon: It's not just the football, is it?

Mark: It's the end of austerity. There was no such thing even as a calorie till 1974.

Simon: [[w:Civil Rights|civil rights; [w:space exploration|space exploration] Welcome to the new age of ], ].

Mark: [[w:List of countries with McDonald's restaurants|McDonald's] You know what happened in 1974? The first ] in the UK.

Simon: [[w:John Barry|John Barry; [w:football boots|football boots] He's basically ] with ].

Mark: See, look at that guy. He would be scrawny today.

Simon: A great, swaggering, filthy piece of music.

Mark: But then... That was totally normal till 1974. It's insurrection!

Simon: That's the beauty of what he does.

Mark: [[w:South London|South London; [w:Woolich|Woolwich] You know what happened in 1974? First McDonald's. ]. ].

Simon: Cheers. Up your ass.

Mark: Placebo.

Simon: There's a fucking...

Mark: Do it. Let's do it. Fuck off.

Simon: Yeah!

Mark: Yeah!

Security guard: You not gonna give us a song?

Renton: I can sing. I'll just... I'll just fucking make something up. You can play the piano.

Simon: I can't play the fucking piano.

Renton: [''Renton takes the stage and Simon takes the piano''] You know those two chords. The fucking F and G march you used to play at school. Do that. Good evening. My mate and I would like to sing a song that we wrote.

Renton: No. Is... Is that it? It was the year of 1690, on the 11th of July, or the first in Julian calendar. Wait, wait, wait. Give me something with a little bit of rhythm. Here we go. It was on the field of battle, of hope we were bereft, but by the time that it was over, there were no more Catholics left.

Renton: We looked up to King William, on his chin a royal cleft, and by the time that it was over, there were no more Catholics left. Aye! Fucking right. His strategy was strong, his strategy was deft, by the time that it was over, there were no more Catholics left, the battle now victorious. We foiled his papist theft, when the time was over, there were no more Catholics left, aye!

Spud: I can feel again Mark, you know. I need to detox the system.

Renton: Oh Spud, detox the system... What does it even mean? It doesn't mean anything. It's not getting it out of your body, that is the problem, it is getting it out of your mind! You are an addict!

Spud: You think I haven't heard that a 100,000 times Mark? You go 12 steps ahead of me comrade.

Renton: So be addicted. Be addicted to something else.

Spud: Like running until I feel sick?

Renton: Yes! Or something else. You've got to channel it! You've got to control it! People try all sorts. Some people do boxing.

Spud: Boxing?

Renton: Well, it's just an example. I don't... I don't mean you should...

Spud: So what did you channel it into?

Renton: Getting away.

The Ghost: [''Sees Roy at metal detectors at Rhinehart Inc. entrance''; ''Getting [[w:Metal detector|wanded; [w:Frisking|frisked; [w:Random House|Random House] Roy. ] and ] Who're you expecting to bomb you, ]?

Roy Quigley: We're publishing Lang's memoirs. That's enough to make us a target, apparently.

The Ghost: [''Gets his effects back''; ''In elevator''] Thank you. How many have you seen?

Roy Quigley: Five. You're the last. I must be honest. I don't think you're the right man for this assignment.

The Ghost: Then it's a good job it's not your decision, Roy.

Roy Quigley: John Maddox, chief executive of Rhinehart, New York.

The Ghost: [''Shakes hand''] Sir.

Roy Quigley: Sidney Kroll, Mr. Lang's Washington attorney.

The Ghost: [''Shakes hand''] Mr. Kroll.

Roy Quigley: And Nick Ricardelli I believe you know.

The Ghost: [''Rick puts hand on The Ghost's back and guides him to couch''] All right, Rick.

John Maddox: All right, I gather from Rick you're aware of the situation? Perhaps you can enlighten us and tell us what exactly you're gonna bring to this project.

The Ghost: Nothing. No, I'm not gonna pretend to be someone I'm not. You have my CV.

Roy Quigley: His last effort was the autobiography of a magician, I Came, I Sawed, I Conquered.

Rick Ricardelli: Yeah, and it went straight to number one, so...

The Ghost: After you turned it down, Roy. Look, I don't read political memoirs. Who does? And I gather you've spent $10 million on this book. How much of that are you gonna see back? Two? Three? It's bad news for your shareholders. And it's worse news for your client, Mr. Kroll. Adam Lang, he wants a place in history, not in the remainder tables.

Roy Quigley: Oh, please!

The Ghost: It's because I know nothing about politics that I'll ask the questions that get right to the heart of who Adam Lang is. And that is what sells autobiographies. Heart.

Rick Ricardelli: Wow! That's nicely done.

Roy Quigley: What utter balls!

John Maddox: You think so?

Roy Quigley: John, of course. Adam Lang's a world historical figure. His autobiography is gonna be a world-publishing event.

John Maddox: Yeah, well, I got warehouses filled with world-publishing events waiting to be pulped.

Roy Quigley: Sid?

Sidney Kroll: Adam is obviously still very upset by what happened to Mike McAra. He was irreplaceable. Irreplaceable, and yet he has to be replaced. Adam can certainly appreciate the benefits of trying someone different. In the end, it's about chemistry. Do you work out, maybe?

The Ghost: Not really.

Sidney Kroll: That's a pity. Adam likes to work out.

Roy Quigley: [[w:The Guardian|the Guardian] Actually, I know a good writer on ] who uses a gym.

Rick Ricardelli: Okay, maybe we could just run over the publishing schedule, yeah?

John Maddox: We need to wrap this up in a month.

The Ghost: A month?

John Maddox: Yes.

The Ghost: You want the book in a month?

Sidney Kroll: We already have a first draft.

John Maddox: Yeah, well, it needs a lot of work. That's why I like your résumé here. You're fast, and you deliver.

Rick Ricardelli: You name it, he ghosts it.

John Maddox: [''Mimics English accent''; ''Rick chuckles''] And you're a Brit. The ghost should be a Brit. To get the jolly old tone right, right?

Sidney Kroll: Do you have any family commitments?

The Ghost: No, I have no family. Why?

Sidney Kroll: Adam is locked into a US lecture tour, also a fundraising program for the Adam Lang Foundation.

Rick Ricardelli: It's a month in the States. That's okay.

The Ghost: Couldn't I bring the manuscript back here to work on?

Sidney Kroll: I'm afraid not. It's in a secure environment in Marty Rhinehart's own house. Only a few people are allowed to handle it.

Roy Quigley: Sounds more like a bomb than a book. I will need to see it myself at some point. I am supposed to be editing it. Yeah, in theory.

John Maddox: Actually, we need to talk about that. How soon can you get over there?

The Ghost: As soon as you want.

Rick Ricardelli: He'll fly tonight.

The Ghost: Rick.

Rick Ricardelli: It's okay.

John Maddox: [''After silence with Sidney giving an informal eye flash''] Okay, you're in.

The Ghost: [''Gets up''] Oh!

John Maddox: [''Shakes The Ghost's hand and pats him on shoulder''] Congratulations.

The Ghost: Thank you. Thanks.

John Maddox: [''Off camera''] Rick.

The Ghost: [''To Sidney''] Thank you.

Sidney Kroll: [''Holds up bag''] Actually, I have something here you might want to look at.

The Ghost: Is that... Is that...

Sidney Kroll: No, no, no, this isn't Adam's book. No, it's another client of mine. Yeah, perhaps you can let me know what you think.

The Ghost: Sure.

Sidney Kroll: [''To dazed Roy''; ''Raises voice''; ''Roy comes to''] Okay, if you're gonna get that evening flight, we'd better talk contracts with Rick here. Wanna show our friend to the door? Would you?! Roy?!

Rick Ricardelli: Call you in an hour, buddy.

John Maddox: [''To The Ghost at door''; ''Pats chest saying in English accent''] Hey! Remember... Heart.

The Ghost: [''At a restaurant''] But you realize I know nothing about politics?

Rick Ricardelli: You voted for him, didn't you?

The Ghost: Adam Lang? Of course I did.

Rick Ricardelli: Everyone voted for him. He wasn't a politician, he was a craze.

The Ghost: Well, there you go.

Rick Ricardelli: Look, it's a new ghostwriter he needs, not another goddamn politico. He was paid $10 million for these memoirs, but rumor has it the manuscript's a crock of shit. Rhinehart's lending him his house at the ocean so they can fix it, and the pressure must have gotten to McAra. Pathologist said his blood was, like, three parts booze.

The Ghost: You mean he drowned by accident?

Rick Ricardelli: Accident, suicide, who cares? It was the book that killed him.

The Ghost: [''Rick dryly chuckles''] Well, that's encouraging. Who is this McAra? Should I have heard of him?

Rick Ricardelli: Yeah. He was some kind of aide to Lang when he was Prime Minister, so don't admit that you haven't. He was with him for years.

The Ghost: I don't know, Rick.

Rick Ricardelli: This is a great opportunity for you. Plus the money is good. Kids won't starve.

The Ghost: I don't have any kids.

Rick Ricardelli: I do.

The Ghost: [''On phone to agent''] Some peace protesters are trying to kill me!

The Ghost: Well all the words are there, they're just in the wrong order.

The Ghost: [''Reading the first words of Adam Lang's manuscript''] Langs are Scottish folk originally and proud of it. Our name is a derivation of long', the Old English word for tall, and it is from North of the border that my forefathers hail." Fu...ck.

The Ghost: Forty thousand years of human language, and there's no word to describe our relationship. It was doomed.

The Ghost: [''Consoling Ruth''] It's all right. Everything'll be all right.

The Ghost: [''Goes to bathroom and whispers in mirror''] Your hair's all wet, you're drenched. Let me get you a towel. Bad idea.

The Ghost: Use it? I think we should open the whole book like this. "I went into politics out of love, not love for a party or an ideology, but out of love for a woman.

The Ghost: [''At Rhinehart publishing house security check''; [w:Random House|Random House] Who are you expecting to bomb you, ]?

Catcher Block: I'm sorry I have to say this, Barbara but....I love you. So I can make love to you heartfelt, passionate, worshiping, adoring love and you can still have meaningless sex with me, right?

Catcher Block: [Barbara] I'm taking to my place which she still thinks is your place by saying the guy she thinks I am who acts like you has a meeting there with you and the guy who she still doesn't know I really am.

Renton: Getting out much, Tommy?

Diane: [narrating, while Renton is reading a letter from her] Dear Mark, I'm glad you've found a job and somewhere to live. School is fine at the moment. I'm not pregnant, but thanks for asking. Your friend Sick Boy asked me last week if I would like to work for him, but I told him where to go. I met Spud, who sends his regards, or at least I think that's what he said. No one seen Tommy for ages, and finally, Francis Begbie has been on television a lot this week, as he is wanted by the police, in connection with an armed robbery in a jewellers in Corstorphine. Take care. Yours with love, Diane.

Diane: Francis Begbie.

Renton: [realises it's Begbie] Oh no.

Begbie: Armed robbery? What? With a replica? I mean, how can it be an armed robbery with a fucking replica? Fucking scandal. And the gear? Look! Supposed to be fucking solid silver, it's fucking garbage. There's young couples investing their hopes in that stuff and all.

Renton: It's a scandal, Franco.

Begbie: Too fucking right that is!

Begbie: [[w:Lee Marvin|Lee Marvin] And I don't want any pot noodles, by the way. I'm fucking ] (i.e. starving).

Mrs. Renton: We'll help you son. You'll stay here with us, till you get better. We're gonna beat this together.

Renton: Maybe I-- Maybe I should go back to the clinic?

Mrs. Renton: No. No clinics, no methadone. That only made you worse, you said so yourself. You lied to us son, your own mother and father!

Renton: You could bring us some jellies.

Mrs. Renton: No! You're worse coming off that than you are with the heroin. Nothing at all.

Mr. Renton: It's a clean break this time.

Mrs. Renton: You're staying here, where we can keep an eye on you.

Renton: I appreciate what you're trying to do. I really do, but I just need one more score like. Just bring me one more hit. I need one more fucking hit! You fuck!

Begbie: Well, that's a good fucking laugh, ain't it? You sweat that shite out of your system, cause I'll come back and it's still here, I'll fucking kick it out. Okay?

Dealer: So, how much would you like for this?

Begbie: 20,000.

Dealer: Well, I don't think it's worth more than 15.

Renton: [narration] This was a real drag to him. He didn't need to negotiate. I mean, what the fuck were we going to do if he didn't buy it? Sell it on the streets? Fuck that.

Begbie: Well... 19.

Dealer: Terribly sorry, I can't go to 19.

Begbie: [flustered] Well, fuckin 16, then.

Dealer: [chuckles] Okay. "Well, fuckin 16" it is, then.

Renton: What's on the menu this evening, sir?

Swanney: Your favourite dish.

Renton: Excellent.

Swanney: Your usual table, sir.

Renton: Oh, why, thank you.

Swanney: Would sir care to pay for his bill in advance?

Renton: No. Stick it on my tab.

Swanney: Ah, regret to inform, sir, credit limit was reached and breached quite some time ago.

Renton: [hands him some cash] Oh, well, in that case...

Swanney: Oh, hard currency. Why, sir, that'll do nicely. Can't be too careful when we're dealing with your type, can we? Would sir care for a starter? Some garlic bread perhaps?

Renton: No, thank you. I'll proceed directly to the intravenous injection of hard drugs, please.

Swanney: As you wish sir, as you wish.

Sick Boy: It's certainly a phenomenon in all walks of life.

Renton: What do you mean?

Sick Boy: [[w:George Best|George Best; [David Bowie; [Lou Reed] Well, at one time, you've got it, and then you lose it, and it's gone forever. All walks of life: ], for example. Had it, lost it. Or ]. Or ].

Renton: Lou Reed, some of his solo stuff's not bad.

Sick Boy: No, it's not bad. But it's not great either, is it? And in your heart you kind of know that although it sounds all right, it's actually just...shite.

Renton: So who else?

Sick Boy: [[w:Charlie Nicholas|Charlie Nicholas; [w:David Niven|David Niven; [w:Malcolm McLaren|Malcolm McLaren; [Elvis Presley] ], ], ], ]...

Renton: Okay, okay, so what's the point you're trying to make?

Sick Boy: [[w:The Name of the Rose (film)|The Name of the Rose] All I'm trying to do, Mark, is help you understand that ] is merely a blip on an otherwise uninterrupted downward trajectory.

Renton: [[The Untouchables] What about ]?

Sick Boy: I don't rate that at all.

Renton: Despite the Academy Award?

Sick Boy: That means fuck all. It's a sympathy vote.

Renton: Right. So we all get old and then we can't hack it anymore. Is that it?

Sick Boy: Yeah.

Renton: That's your theory?

Sick Boy: Yeah. Beautifully fucking illustrated.

Renton: Give me the gun. Give me the gun.

Sick Boy: [affects a Sean Connery accent] Do you see the beast? Have you got it in your sights?

Renton: [aiming the pellet gun at a dog; shoots the dog, which starts attacking its owner] Clear enough, Miss Moneypenny! This should present no significant problems!

Sick Boy: For a vegetarian, Rents, you're a fuckin evil shot!

Renton: Excuse me, excuse me. I don't mean to harass you, but I was very impressed with the capable and stylish manner in which you dealt with that situation. I was thinking to myself, now this girl's special.

Diane: Thanks.

Renton: What's your name?

Diane: Diane.

Renton: Where are you going, Diane?

Diane: I'm going home.

Renton: Where's that?

Diane: It's where I live.

Renton: Great.

Diane: What?

Renton: I'll come back with you if you like, but I'm not promising anything.

Diane: Do you find that this approach usually works? Or, let me guess, you've never tried it before. In fact, you don't normally approach girls, am I right? The truth is that you're a quiet, sensitive type. But if I'm prepared to take a chance, I might just get to know the inner you: witty, adventurous, passionate, loving, loyal... Taxi! ...a little bit crazy, a little bit bad. But, hey, don't us girls just love that?

Renton: Eh?

Diane: [enters taxicab] Well... what's wrong, boy? Cat got your tongue?

Renton: [confused] I left something...

Taxi Driver: You getting in or not, pal?

Renton: Good luck, Spud.

Spud: Cheers, cowboy.

Renton: Now remember, if they think you're not trying, you're in trouble, right? First hint of that, and they'll be onto the D.H.S.S., "This cunt is not trying." And your giro's fuckin finished, right?

Spud: Right.

Renton: But, then again, try too hard--

Spud: [Chuckles] You might get the fuckin job.

Renton: Exactly.

Spud: Nightmare.

Renton: It's a tightrope, Spud. It's a fuckin tightrope.

Spud: See, I just get pure shy with the interviewer cats. I get all nervous. I can't answer any of their questions, like I'm a footballer... and I get nerves on the big occasion, man.

Renton: [Produces a folded up paper of a stimulant powder] Try some of this, Spud.

Spud: Yeah, a little dab of speed is just the ticket, mate.

Spud: No, I went to Craignewton. I just put down Royal Edinburgh College to help get the job. There's too much discrimination in this town, they're both schools, right? We're all in this together. And I wanted to put across the general idea, rather than the details. Like people get all hung up on details. Like which school did I go to? How many grades did I get? Could be like six. Could be none. It's not important. What is important is that I am, yes?

Interviewer: Mr. Murphy, do you mean that you lied on your application?

Spud: No. Well, yes. Only to get my foot in the door. Showing initiative and that like.

Interviewer: But you were referred here by the Department of Employment. There was no need for you to get your "foot in the door," as you put it.

Spud: Yeah, cool. Whatever you say. Sorry. You're the man, the dude in the chair. I am merely here-- Like, well, obviously, I'm here like, but--

Interviewer: Mr. Murphy, what exactly attracts you to the leisure industry?

Spud: [Glances at wall, then back at them] In a word... pleasure. Like, my pleasure in other people's leisure.

Interviewer: Do you see yourself as having any weaknesses?

Spud: Oh, yes, cause, like, I'm a bit of a perfectionist, actually! Yes, I am. See, for me, it's got to be the best, or it's nothing at all. Like things get a bit dodgy, I just cannot be bothered. But, hey, I'm getting good vibes about this interview thing today though, man. Seems to me like it's going pretty well, eh?

Interviewer: Thank you, Mr. Murphy.

Second Interviewer: We'll let you know.

Spud: The pleasure was mine, man.

Renton: [narrating] Spud had done well. I was proud of him.

Spud: Thanks. Ooh, sorry.

Renton: He fucked up good and proper. You had to hand it to Spud.

Tommy: Doesn't it make you proud to be Scottish?

Renton: It's SHITE being Scottish! We're the lowest of the low. The scum of the fucking Earth! The most wretched, miserable, servile, pathetic trash that was ever shat into civilisation. Some people hate the English. I don't. They're just wankers. We, on the other hand, are colonised by wankers. Can't even find a decent culture to be colonised by. We're ruled by effete arseholes. It's a SHITE state of affairs to be in, Tommy, and all the fresh air in the world won't make any fucking difference!

Renton: [narrating] This was typical of Mikey Forrester. In the normal run of things, I would have nothing to do with the cunt. But this was not the normal run of things.

Renton: What the fuck are these?!

Mikey Forrester: Opium suppositories. Ideal for your purposes. Slow release. Bring you down gradually. Custom fucking designed for your needs.

Renton: I want a fucking hit!

Mikey Forrester: That's all I've got, matey. Take it or leave it.

Mikey Forrester: Aye, you feel better the now right?

Renton: Oh, yeah, for all the good they've done me, I might as well have stuck them up my arse!

Renton: [Narrating] From time to time even I have uttered the magic words—

Renton: Never again, Swanney. I'm off the skag.

Swanney: Are you serious?

Renton: Yeah, no more. I'm finished with that shite.

Swanney: Well, it's up to you, man.

Renton: Gonna get it right this time. Gonna get it sorted out. Gonna get off it for good.

Swanney: I've heard that one before.

Renton: The Sick Boy method.

Swanney: [sarcastically] Well, it nearly worked for him, hey.

Renton: Well, he's always been lacking in moral fibre.

Swanney: [[Sean Connery] He knows a lot about ].

Renton: That's hardly a substitute.

Swanney: Do you need one more hit?

Renton: No, I don't think so.

Swanney: For the long night that lies ahead?

Renton: [narrating] We called him "Mother Superior" on account of the length of his habit. Of course I'd have another shot. After all, I had work to do.

Renton: [Closing narration] Now, I've justified this to myself in all sorts of ways. It wasn't a big deal, just a minor betrayal. Or we'd outgrown each other, you know, that sort of thing. But let's face it, I ripped them off - my so-called mates. But Begbie, I couldn't give a shite about him. And Sick Boy; well, he'd have done the same to me, if he'd only thought of it first. And Spud; well...okay, I felt sorry for Spud - he never hurt anybody. So why did I do it? I could offer a million answers - all false. The truth is that I'm a bad person. But, that's gonna change - I'm going to change. This is the last of that sort of thing. Now I'm cleaning up and I'm moving on, going straight and choosing life. I'm looking forward to it already. I'm gonna be just like you. The job, the family, the fucking big television, the washing machine, the car, the compact disc and electric tin opener, good health, low cholesterol, dental insurance, mortgage, starter home, leisure wear, luggage, three piece suite, DIY, game shows, junk food, children, walks in the park, nine to five, good at golf, washing the car, choice of sweaters, family Christmas, indexed pension, tax exemption, clearing gutters, getting by, looking ahead, the day you die.

Renton: This seems however I really am the luckiest guy in the world. Several years of addiction, right in the middle of an epidemic, surrounded by the living dead. But not me. I am negative. It's official. And once the pain goes away, that's when the real battle starts. Depression. Boredom. You feel so fucking low, you'll want to fucking top yourself.

Renton: Since I was on remand, they've had me on this programme. The state-sponsored addiction. Three sickly sweet doses of methadone a day instead of smack. But it's never enough. And at the moment, it's nowhere near enough. I took all three this morning, and now I've got 18 hours to go till my next shot, and the sweat on my back is like a layer of frost. I need to visit the mother-superior for one hit. One fucking hit to get us over this long, hard day.

Renton: Our only response was to keep on going and fuck everything. Pile misery upon misery, heap it up on a spoon and dissolve it with a drop of bile. Then squirt it into a stinking, purulent vein, and do it all over again. Keep on going, getting up, going out, robbing, stealing, fucking people over. Propelling ourselves with longing towards the day that it would all go wrong. Because no matter how much you stash or how much you steal, you'll never have enough. No matter how often you go out and rob and fuck people over, you always need to get up and do it all over again.

Renton: It looks easy this, but it's not. Looks like a doss, like a soft option. But living like this, it's a full-time business.

Renton: One thousand years from now, there won't be any guys and there won't be any girls, just wankers. Sounds all right to me.

Renton: The downside of coming off junk was I knew I would need to mix with my friends again in a state of full consciousness. It was awful. They reminded me so much of myself. I could hardly bear to look at them. Take Sick Boy, for instance. He came off junk at the same time as me — not because he wanted to, you understand, but just to annoy me. Just to show me how easily he could do it, thereby downgrading my own struggle. Sneaky fucker, don't you think?

Renton: I don't feel the sickness yet, but it's in the post. That's for sure. I'm in the junkie limbo at the moment. Too ill to sleep. Too tired to stay awake, but the sickness is on its way. Sweat, chills, nausea. Pain and craving. A need like nothing else I've ever known will soon take hold of me. It's on its way.

Renton: [explaining the gaps in his employment history - from a deleted scene included on some home media releases] Yes, I can. The truth...well, the truth is that I've had a long-standing problem with heroin addiction. I've been known to sniff it, smoke it, swallow it, stick it up my arse and inject it into my veins. I've been trying to combat this addiction, but unless you count social security scams and shoplifting, I haven't had a regular job in years.

Renton: Relinquishing junk, stage one: preparation. For this you will need: one room which you will not leave. Soothing music. Tomato soup, ten tins of. Mushroom soup, eight tins of, for consumption cold. Ice cream, vanilla, large tub of. Magnesia, milk of, one bottle. Paracetamol. Mouthwash. Vitamins. Mineral water. Lucozade. Pornography. One mattress, one bucket for urine, one for feces, and one for vomitus. One television, and one bottle of Valium, which I've already procured from my mother who is, in her own domestic and socially acceptable way, also a drug addict. And now I'm ready. All I need is one final hit to soothe the pain while Valium takes effect.

Renton: People think it's all about misery and desperation and death and all that shite, which is not to be ignored. But what they forget is the pleasure of it. Otherwise we wouldn't do it. After all, we're not fucking stupid. At least, we're not that fucking stupid. Take the best orgasm you ever had, multiply it by a thousand, and you're still nowhere near it. When you're on junk, you have only one worry: scoring. When you're off it, you are suddenly obliged to worry about all sorts of other shite. Got no money: can't get pissed. Got money: drinking too much. Can't get a bird: no chance of a ride. Got a bird: too much hassle. You have to worry about bills, about food, about some football team that never fucking wins, about human relationships, and all the things that really don't matter when you've got a sincere and truthful junk habit.

Renton: [opening narration] Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourselves. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?

Christian: Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. And then, one not-so-very special day, I went to my typewriter, I sat down, and I wrote our story. A story about a time, a story about a place, a story about the people. But above all things, a story about love. A love that will live forever. The End.

Christian: This woman is yours now. I've paid my whore. I owe you nothing. And you're nothing to me. (scuffles to hold back tears) Thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love.

Christian: [singing] Why does my heart cry? Feelings I can't fight. You're free to leave me, but just don't deceive me. And please, believe me when I say I love you.

Christian: The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.

Christian: It's a little bit funny this feeling inside, I'm not one of those who can easily hide...

Christian: [singing] Come what may... come what may. I will love you, until my dying day!

Christian: Above all things I believe in love. Love is like oxygen- love is a many splendored thing- love lifts us up where we belong! All you need is love!

Christian: Can't fall in love? But a life without love, that-that-that's terrible!

Christian: Silly of me, to think y-you could fall in love with someone like me.

Christian: The Hills are alive, with the sound of music. With songs they have sung for a thousand years

Christian: I first came to Paris one year ago. It was 1899, the summer of love. I knew nothing of the Moulin Rouge, Harold Zidler or Satine. The world had been swept up in the Bohemian revolution and I had traveled from London to be a part of it. On a hill near Paris, was the village of Montmartre. It was not what my father had said. But the center of the Bohemian world. Musicians, painters, writers. They were known as the children of the revolution. Yes! I had come to live a penniless existence. I had come to write about truth, beauty, freedom and at which I believed above all things, love. But there was only one problem.....I'd never been in love! Fortunately, at that moment, an unconscious Argentinian fell through my roof. He was quickly joined by a dwarf dressed as a nun.

Christian: The Moulin Rouge. A night club, a dance hall, and a bordello. Ruled over by Harold Zidler. A kingdom of night time pleasures, where the rich and powerful came to play with the young and beautiful creatures of the underworld. The most beautiful of all these was the woman I loved. Satine. A courtesan, she sold her love to men. They called her the Sparkling Diamond', and she was the star of the Moulin Rouge. The woman I loved is…dead.

Elmont: This is a terrible idea.

Jack: Have you ever killed a giant before?

Elmont: And you've killed, what, one? Which makes you an expert now?

Jack: Weren't you in an oven an hour ago?

Camerlengo Patrick McKenna: Mr Langdon, you are correct that I may grant you access to the archives.

Robert Langdon: Thank you, Padre.

Camerlengo Patrick McKenna: I said that you are correct that I may, not-not that I will. Christianity's most sacred codices are in that archive. Given your recent entanglement with the church... there is a question I'd like to ask you first, here, in the office of His Holiness. Do you believe in God, Sir?

Robert Langdon: Father, I simply believe that religion......

Camerlengo Patrick McKenna: I did not ask you if you believe what man says about God. I asked you if you believe in God.

Robert Langdon: I'm an academic. My mind tells me I will never understand God.

Camerlengo Patrick McKenna: And your heart?

Robert Langdon: Tells me I'm not meant to. Faith is a gift that I have yet to receive.

Camerlengo Patrick McKenna: Be delicate with our treasures.

Camerlengo Patrick McKenna: [Last words] Father, into Thy hands, I commit my spirit.

Camerlengo Patrick McKenna: If science is allowed to claim the moment of creation, what is left for God?

Camerlengo Patrick McKenna: Have you come to make me a martyr?

Camerlengo Patrick McKenna: I want people's last memory of the church to be of them walking out with their heads held high, not of some old men sneaking out a back door.

Camerlengo Patrick McKenna: Who is more ignorant — the man who cannot define lightning, or the one who does not respect its awesome natural power?

Christopher Robin: [after being told they have to cut to 20%] Sir, your father promised these people good jobs to come home to after the war. Well, they'd do anything for this company. I would do anything for this company.

Giles Winslow Jr.: My father has called an emergency meeting on Monday. We need to produce the cuts by then. It's sink or swim.

Christopher: [disappointed] But I promised my wife and daughter that I'd take them away this weekend, sir.

Winslow Jr.: [condescendingly] And I'd thought you'd do anything for this company.

Christopher Robin: A Woozle is a slinking little monster who gets everyone else to do his work for him, and hopes that we forget what's important in our lives: our families, our dear friends, the people who love us, the people whom we love. Well, we're here to tell you, I'm here to tell you that we're not afraid of Heffalumps and Woozles anymore, are we?

Obi-Wan Kenobi: Chancellor.

Anakin Skywalker: Are you all right?

Chancellor Palpatine: Count Dooku.

Obi-Wan: This time, we'll do it together.

Anakin: I was about to say that.

Palpatine: Get help. You're no match for him; he's a Sith Lord.

Obi-Wan: [turns and smiles] Chancellor Palpatine, Sith Lords are our speciality.

Count Dooku: Your swords, please. We don't want to make a mess of things in front of the Chancellor.

Obi-Wan: You won't get away this time, Dooku.

Dooku: I've been looking forward to this.

Anakin: My powers have doubled since the last time we met, Count.

Dooku: Good. Twice the pride, double the fall.

Obi-Wan Kenobi: Another happy landing.

Obi-Wan Kenobi: [after killing General Grievous with a blaster; tosses it aside] So uncivilized.

Cogsworth: Well, Master, I have had my doubts, but everything is moving like clockwork. True love really does win the day!

Beast: I let her go.

Cogsworth: You... what?!

Lumière: Master, how could you do that?

Beast: I had to.

Cogsworth: But why?

Mrs. Potts: Because he loves her.

Lumière: Then why are we not human?

Cogsworth: Because she doesn't love him and now it's too late.

Plumette: But, she might still come back.

Beast: No. I set her free. I'm sorry I couldn't do the same for all of you. Now, go. Our time is almost past.

Lumière: Come, my love.

Beast: [sings] I was the one who had it all,I was the master of my fate.I never needed anybody in my life,I learned the truth too late.I'll never shake away the pain,I close my eyes but she's still there.I let her steal into my melancholy heart,It's more than I can bear.

Belle: [to Lumière; looking at the rose] What happens when the last petal falls?

Lumière: The Master remains a beast forever and we become...

Mrs. Potts: [sadly] Antiques.

Lumière: Knick-knacks.

Plumette: Lightly-used housewares.

Cogsworth: Rubbish. We become rubbish.

Belle: I want to help you. There must be some way to break the curse.

Cogsworth: [Lumière cuts him off] Well, there is one...

Mrs. Potts: It's not for you to worry about, lamb. We made our bed and now we must lie in it.

Beast: [roaring in pain] OOWW!!! That hurts.

Belle: If you'd hold still, it wouldn't hurt as much.

Beast: If you hadn't run away, none of this would have happened.

Belle: Well, if you hadn't frightened me, I wouldn't have run away!

Beast: Well, YOU shouldn't have been in the West Wing.

Belle: Well, YOU should learn to control your temper!

Belle: Try to get some rest.

Mrs. Potts: Thank you, miss.

Lumière: We are eternally grateful.

Belle: Why do you care about him so much?

Mrs. Potts: We've looked after him all his life.

Belle: [Cogsworth feels ashamed at the remark] But he's cursed you somehow. Why? You did nothing.

Mrs. Potts: [ashamed] You're quite right there, dear. You see, when the Master lost his mother, and his cruel father took that sweet, innocent lad and twisted him up to be just like him, we did nothing.

Lumière: Let him sleep.

Beast: [to Belle, gruffly] You'll join me for dinner. That's not a request.

Mrs. Potts: Gently, Master. The girl lost her father and her freedom in one day.

Lumière: Yes, the poor thing is probably in there scared to death.

Belle: Just a minute.

Lumière: You see? There she is. Now remember: Be gentle.

Mrs. Potts: Kind.

Plumette: Mmm, charming.

Cogsworth: Sweet!

Lumière: And when she opens the door, give her a dashing, debonaire smile! Come, come, show me the smile!

Cogsworth: Oh, dear!

Plumette: Oh, no!

Beast: [his smile vanishes; graciously] Will you join me for dinner?

Belle: [scoffs] You've taken me as your prisoner, and now you want to have dinner with me? Are you insane?

Plumette: Uh-oh! He's losing it!

Cogsworth: Oh, dear!

Beast: [pounds on Belle's door repeatedly, angrily yelling] I told you to join me for dinner!

Belle: [angrily] And I told you no!

Madame Garderobe: [awakens startled] Oh, what time is it? What's happening?

Belle: I'd starve before I ever eat with you!

Beast: [roaring ferociously; to Lumiere angrily; storms off] Well, be my guest! Go ahead and starve! If she doesn't eat with me, then she doesn't eat at all! Idiots!

Beast: [roars] Lumiere!

Lumière: [turns to Cogsworth] Be calm. Let me do the talking.

Beast: You're making her dinner?

Lumière: We thought you might appreciate the company.

Cogsworth: Master, I just want to assure you that I had no part of this hopeless plan. Preparing her dinner, designing a gown for her, giving her a suite in the East Wing...

Beast: You gave her a bedroom?

Cogsworth: No, no, no! He gave her the bedroom.

Lumière: Well, this is true. But, if this girl is the one who can break the spell, then maybe you can start by using dinner to charm her.

Lumière: Good thinking, Cogsworth.

Cogsworth: What?

Beast: That's the most ridiculous idea, I've ever heard. Charm the prisoner.

Lumière: But you must try, master. With every passing day, we become less human.

Beast: She's the *daughter* of a common thief. What kind of person do you think that makes her?

Mrs. Potts: Oh, you can't judge people by who their father is, now can you?

Lumière: Cogsworth, we beat the clock!

Lumière: [singing] Be our guest.

Cassandra Cain: I really like your earrings.

Woman: Why, thank you.

Man 1: There's the thief. There's the thief.

Cassandra Cain: Get off of me!

Man 2: That little girl took my watch.

Cassandra Cain: I didn't do nothing.

Victor: Where the fuck's the diamond? I just fucking had it.

Harley Quinn: [''Voiceover''; ''Multiple police officers approaching her cornered in an alleyway''] In the storytelling business, this dummy swallowing that diamond is called a complication. A complication I didn't exactly need right now. Parley?

Dinah Lance: We lost the diamond.

Roman Sionis: [''Receiving [[w:botox|botox injections] What?!

Dinah Lance: We're really sorry, Mr. S. This kid...

Victor: We never even got our hands on it.

Botox injectionist: [''Roman grabs his hand tightly and swipes it away''] Ow! Help!

Roman Sionis: [''To woman [[w:sage|burning sage] Get out! Get out of here! You, too! Go! With your fucking sage stinking my place up. Fuck off!

Victor: [''Hands over a police perp profile paper''] Here she is.

Roman Sionis: [''Holds up paper''] She's a child!

Dinah Lance: [''To subordinate''] She's just a kid. She's... What?!

Subordinate: We have Harley Quinn downstairs, as requested.

Roman Sionis: [''Crumples up and throws paper''; ''Throws pillow on floor''] Fuck off! Get out! Fucking out! Fuck! These are my things! This diamond is my things!

Victor: Yes.

Roman Sionis: [''Throws pillow''] My things! Fucking fuck! I don't ask for much, do I?!

Victor: No.

Roman Sionis: Why is this happening to me?! Why?!

Victor: [''Restraining Roman''] I'm gonna get your diamond back. I promise. Why don't we go downstairs and kill that Harley bitch? Blow off a little steam.

Roman Sionis: [''Walks off''] Yeah, I have wanted to do that for quite some time. Okay. I'll go get changed.

Victor: [''Reading newspaper at table to Roman''] The Sprang Bridge Soldiers capituated.

Roman Sionis: Capitulated." Of course they did. I told you that Keo scene would send a message.

Victor: It sure did, boss. It sure fucking did. Crossbow killer struck again last night. Rossi and four of his guys.

Roman Sionis: People don't kill people I own without my permission. Why doesn't this crossbow guy know that? You know that!

Victor: [''Gets up to rub Roman's shoulders''] I know it.

Roman Sionis: Why doesn't this crossbow guy? Why don't I own the crossbow guy?

Victor: You should own him.

Roman Sionis: [''Dinah enters loft apartment''] I mean, I like crossbows. Oh, good morning. Good morning. Morning. Come in. Come in. We're just finishing up a little business. Look around.

Victor: You're late.

Roman Sionis: It's fine.

Victor: Should she come back another time, cause she's late?

Roman Sionis: [''To Dinah observing African tribal mask''; [w:Chokwe people|a Chokwe mask; [w:Democratic Republic of the Congo|Congo-Kinshasa] No. Isn't this stunning? That is ]. I got it when I was embedded with the Mbangani tribe in ]. Have you ever been?

Dinah Lance: I've never been. I've heard it's beautiful.

Roman Sionis: Mmm-hmm. It's dirty.

Dinah Lance: [''Roman puts arms around Dinah and leads her aside''] Oh...

Roman Sionis: [[w:Shrunken head|Genuine tsantsa or shrunken head; [w:Shuar|Shuar of Ecuador] Here, look at this. ]. ]. They're amazing people. Surprisingly gentle. I think you might like them.

Dinah Lance: Really?

Roman Sionis: They boil the heads of their enemies and they make these little fellas. Exquisite, aren't they? Look.

Dinah Lance: Mmm-hmm.

Roman Sionis: Look at those little ears. And his little haircut.

Dinah Lance: Ah...

Roman Sionis: Yeah, he's 1,000 years old.

Dinah Lance: Wow.

Roman Sionis: And now he's just an ornament in my living room. Ew!

Dinah Lance: I love it.

Roman Sionis: Yeah? These are ancient acupuncture models. As you can see, they have all the acupuncture points. And we found these buried in the mountains.

Victor: Ace Chemicals got blown sky high last night!

Roman Sionis: All right, all right, let's find the Crossbow killer! I get it!

Dinah Lance: [''Referring to statue''] Is he an acupuncture model, too?

Roman Sionis: He is not an acupuncture model. This is a statue of me. It was made by a very famous Gotham artist...

Victor: Harley Quinn did it. Some kind of "fuck you" to the Joker. They split.

Roman Sionis: [https://www.merriam-webster.com/wordplay/bury-the-lede-versus-lead#:~:text=A%20lede%20is%20the%20introductory,story%20within%20other%20distracting%20information. Talk about burying the lede] What's wrong with you, Victor? .

Dinah Lance: Yeah.

Roman Sionis: [''Walks to Victor and whispers''; ''To Dinah''] This is spectacular news! She doesn't belong to him, she belongs to me. Have the boys go find her. Round her up, bring her back. I want her. You, I have something I want you to pick me up. Something super-duper important, okay?

Dinah Lance: Okay.

Victor: I'll go with you.

Roman Sionis: Yeah, go with Victor. It's just a pickup. No, he's harmless. Do as you're told. Go.

Distant man: You're the one who wanted the kid! I never wanted her!

Dinah Lance: Let me guess. Parents?

Cassandra Cain: Foster parents.

Dinah Lance: Right. Sorry, kid.

Cassandra Cain: Sorry about your face. Shit, you do have something on your face.

Dinah Lance: You should've seen the other guy. Uh...

Distant man: I want that kid out of my fucking house!

Dinah Lance: [''Puts dollar bill on stairway railing post''] You know, kid, not every day is gonna be like this. You just gotta hang in there. Get something to eat. Stay outta that. It's not worth it.

Distant man: Don't talk to me like that!

Harley Quinn: Canary spends the next week settling in to her new job as Roman's personal driver.

Roman Sionis: [''Walks to vehicle in fish market''] Ew. Okay.

Harley Quinn: [[w:List of police-related slang terms|the crosshairs of my favorite little piggy] What she didn't know is that driving Mr. Face-peely-pants was gonna put her right in ].

Renee Montoya: [''Approaches Dinah leaving apartment''] Dinah Lance?

Dinah Lance: Who the hell are you?

Renee Montoya: I'm Renee Montoya, detective with GCPD. Your predecessor and I had an arrangement.

Dinah Lance: Oh, really?

Renee Montoya: He told me that there was a shipment coming in. A diamond. A very special diamond.

Dinah Lance: [''Starts walking down hallway''] Yeah, not interested, lady. Thanks for the coffee.

Renee Montoya: Do you know who you're working for?

Dinah Lance: [''Starts walking down stairs''] Damn right, I do. He's the man who gave me a job. Took me off the streets.

Renee Montoya: Yeah, well, he's also a very dangerous man. A criminal. A murderer. What would your mother think of you working for a guy like that, huh? You have the same power she had. Don't you think she would want you to use it?

Dinah Lance: [''Turns and walks back up stairs''] The hell do you know about my mother?

Renee Montoya: Back in the day, she used to help the GCPD. She was a good woman.

Dinah Lance: Yeah. She was a damn good woman. The kind of woman who put everyone else's lives before her own. And when she was found dead in the street, where the fuck were you and your boys in blue then? Now you wanna come and knock on my door and ask me to help you out and make the same mistake she did? Yeah. Good luck with that.

Renee Montoya: That's fair enough. And I'm sorry for your loss. For the record, that would never happen on my watch.

Obi-Wan Kenobi: Why do I get the feeling you're going to be the death of me?

Anakin Skywalker: Don't say that, master. You're the closest thing I have to a father.

Obi-Wan: Then why don't you listen to me?

Anakin: I am trying.

Obi-Wan: Do you see him?

Anakin: I think "he" is a she. And I think she's a changeling.

Obi-Wan: In that case, be extra careful. Go and find her.

Anakin: Where are you going, Master?

Obi-Wan: [sits down at a counter] For a drink.

Barfly: You wanna buy some death sticks?

Obi-Wan: [executes a Jedi mind trick] You don't want to sell me death sticks.

Barfly: I don't wanna sell you death sticks.

Obi-Wan: You want to go home and rethink your life.

Barfly: [leaves] I wanna go home and rethink my life.

Obi-Wan Kenobi: I have a bad feeling about this.

Qui-Gon Jinn: I don't sense anything.

Obi-Wan: It's not about the mission, Master. It's something... elsewhere. Elusive.

Qui-Gon: Don't center on your anxieties, Obi-Wan. Keep your concentration here and now, where it belongs.

Obi-Wan: But Master Yoda said I should be mindful of the future.

Qui-Gon: But not at the expense of the moment. Be mindful of the living Force, young Padawan.

Obi-Wan: Yes, Master. How do you think this Trade Viceroy will deal with the Chancellor's demands?

Qui-Gon: These Federation types are cowards. The negotiations will be short.