George ClooneyQuotes

Matt King: One more question for you.

Brian Speer: Yes?

Matt King: Ever been inside my bedroom?

Brian Speer: Once.

Matt King: You could have had the decency to lie about that one.

Brian Speer: Alright, twice.

Matt King: Nothing just happens!

Brian Speer: Everything just happens.

Matt King: You little fuck! Do you get hit a lot?

Sid: I don't know, I've had my share.

Matt King: [to Alex] Your friend is retarded, you know that?

Sid: Hey I've got a brother who's retarded! You don't have to get all derogatory.

Sid: [on Scott] That guy is a prick. Is he always like that?

Matt King: Yeah.

Matt King: [to Elizabeth] Goodbye, Elizabeth. Goodbye, my love, my friend, my pain, my joy. Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.

Matt King: [to Brian Speer] Elizabeth is dying. Wait... Fuck you! And she's dying.

Matt King: [to Alex, about Brian Speer] On the phone he can escape, in person, he's got nowhere to go. I wanna see his face.

Matt King: What is it that makes the women in my life destroy themselves?

Matt King: I don't want my daughters growing up entitled and spoiled... but I agree with my father; you give your children enough money to do something but not enough to do nothing.

Matt King: [voiceover] Paradise? Paradise can go fuck itself.

Matt King: [voiceover] Don't be fooled by appearances. In Hawaii, some of the most powerful people look like bums and stuntmen.

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.

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.

Lyn Cassady: [[life; [destiny; [Mahatma Gandhi|Gandhi; [Anne Frank] Your ] is like a river. If you’re aiming for a goal that isn't your ], you will always be swimming against the current. Young ] wants to be a stock car racer? Not gonna happen. Little ] wants to be a high school teacher? Tough Anne. That's not your destiny. But you will go on to move the hearts and minds of millions. Find out what your destiny is and the river will carry you.

Amir Abdullah: You know what I think? You're stealing gold, that's what I think. We're fighting Saddam and dying, and you're stealing gold.

Archie Gates: You're wrong.

Abdullah: They have half a million men in the desert and they send four guys to pick up all this bullion? I don't think so.

Archie Gates: Good afternoon. Would this be the proctology tent?

Chief Elgin: No, sir.

Gates: Maybe it's the urology tent. Or the neurology tent. Or the nose and throat tent.

Troy Barlow: Captain's at a staff meeting, sir.

Gates: Captain of proctologists?

Conrad Vig: What's a proctologist, sir?

Archie Gates: Bush told the people to rise up against Saddam. They thought they'd have our support. They don't. Now they're getting slaughtered.

Taxi driver: So what are we doin'?

Michael Clayton: Give me fifty dollars worth. Just drive.

Karen Crowder: You don't want the money?

Michael Clayton: Keep the money. You'll need it.

Don Jefferies: Is this fellow bothering you?

Michael Clayton: Am I bothering you?

Don Jefferies: Karen, I've got a board waiting in there. What the hell's going on? Who are you?

Michael Clayton: I'm Shiva, the God of death.

Michael Clayton: What if Arthur was onto something?

Marty Bach: What do you mean? Onto what?

Michael Clayton: U-North. What if he wasn't crazy? What if he was right?

Marty Bach: Right about what? We're on the wrong side?

Michael Clayton: Wrong side, wrong way. Anything. All of it.

Marty Bach: This is news? This case reeked from day one. Fifteen years in, I gotta tell you how we pay the rent?

Michael Clayton: But what would they do? What would they do if he went public?

Marty Bach: What would they do? Are you fucking soft? They're doing it! We don't straighten this settlement out in the next twenty-four hours, they're gonna withhold nine million dollars in fees. Then they're gonna pull out the video of Arthur doing his flashdance in Milwaukee. They're gonna sue us for legal malpractice. Except there won't be anything for them to win, because by then, the merger with London will be dead, and we'll be selling off the goddamn furniture!

Marty Bach: That's eighty. We're calling it a bonus. You've got a three year contract, that's your current numbers. That's assuming this all works out.

Henry Clayton: What?

Michael Clayton: Your uncle Timmy, and I mean this, on his best day, is never as tough as you. I'm not talking about crying or drugs or anything like that. I'm talking about in his heart. In his heart. Do you understand me? And all this charming bullshit. This "Big Tim, Uncle Boss" bullshit… and I know you love him, and I know why… but when you see him like that, you don't have to worry… because that's not how it's going to be for you. You're not going to be one of these people who goes through life wondering why shit keeps falling out of the sky around them. I know that. I know it. Okay?

Michael Clayton: [phone rings] I see it every time I look at you. I see it right now. I don't know where you got it from, but you got it. Okay? Hold on…

Michael Clayton: You need to think this through. I will help you think this through. I'll find somebody to help you think this through. Don't do this. You're making it easy for them.

Arthur Edens: Michael, I have great affection for you. And you lead a rich and interesting life, but you're a bag-man, not an attorney. If you wanted to lock me up, you should have kept me in Wisconsin, where claims and evidence of my inappropriate behavior would have had jurisdictional relevance. I have no criminal record in the state of New York. And the single defining criterion for involuntary incarceration is danger. Is the defendant a danger to himself or others? You think you got the horses for that? Well, good luck and God bless, but I tell you this: the last place you want to see me is in court.

Michael Clayton: I'm not the enemy.

Arthur Edens: Then who are you?

Arthur Edens: I just need to make my thoughts a little bit more precise. That's—that's my goal.

Michael Clayton: As good as this feels, you know where it goes.

Arthur Edens: No. No, no, you're wrong. What makes this feel good is that I don't know where it goes.

Michael Clayton: You are the senior litigating partner of one of the largest, most respected law firms in the world. You are a legend.

Arthur Edens: I'm an accomplice!

Michael Clayton: You're a manic-depressive!

Arthur Edens: I am Shiva, the god of death.

Arthur Edens: I look up, and Marty's standing in my office with a bottle of champagne. He tells me we just hit thirty thousand billable hours on U-North, and he wants to celebrate. An hour later, I'm in a whorehouse in Chelsea, and two Lithuanian redheads are taking turns sucking on my cock. I'm laying there, I'm trying not to come, I'm trying to make it last, right? So I start doing the math—thirty thousand hours, what is that? Twenty-four times thirty—seven hundred twenty hours in a month, eight thousand seven hundred and sixty hours per year…

Michael Clayton: Arthur…

Arthur Edens: Wait! Because it's years! It's lives! And the numbers are making me dizzy, and now I'm not just trying not to come, I'm trying not to think! But I can't stop. Is that me? Am I just some freak organism that's been put here to eat and sleep and spend my days defending this one horrific chain of carcinogenic molecules? Is this my place?

Michael Clayton: You promised me, Arthur.

Arthur Edens: Is that it, Michael? Is that my grail? Two Lithuanian mouths on my cock? Is that the correct choice to the multiple choice of me?

Michael Clayton: Mr. Greer, you left the scene of an accident on a slow week night, six miles from a state police barracks. Believe me, if there's a line, you're right up front.

Mr. Greer: I can get a lawyer any time I want. I don't need you for that. We're not sitting here for forty five minutes for a god damned referral.

Michael Clayton: I don't know what Walter promised you, but…

Mr. Greer: A miracle worker. That's Walter on the phone twenty minutes ago. Direct quote, okay: "Hang tight, I'm sending you a miracle worker.

Michael Clayton: Well, he misspoke.

Mr. Greer: [explodes in anger] About what? That you're the firm's fixer? Or that you're any good at it? The guy was running. In the street! You take that, you add the fog, you add the light, you add the… the angle. What the fuck is he doing, running in the middle of the street at midnight? You answer me that, huh?

Mr. Greer: What if someone had stolen the car? Huh? Happens all the time.

Michael Clayton: Cops like hit-and-runs. They work em hard, they clear em fast. Right now, there's a BCI unit picking paint chips off a guard rail. Tomorrow they're gonna be looking for the owner of a custom-painted, hand-rubbed Jaguar XJ12. The guy you hit? If he got a look at the plates, it won't even take that long. There's no play here. There's no angle, there's no champagne room. I'm not a miracle worker, I'm a janitor. The math on this is simple: the smaller the mess, the easier it is for me to clean up.

Client: That's the police, isn't it?

Michael Clayton: No. They don't call.

Michael Clayton: Do I look like I'm negotiating?

Michael Clayton: You're so fucked. Here, let me get a picture while I'm at it.

Michael Clayton: I'm not the guy you kill, I'm the guy you buy! Are you so fucking blind that you don't even see what I am? I sold out Arthur for eighty grand and a three year contract. I'm the easiest part of your problem, and you're gonna kill me?

Michael Clayton: You're my meal ticket, Marty. If you leave, it's just me and Barry in a room, and I'm trying to explain what the hell it is I do around here.

Fred Friendly: Might as well go down swinging.

Fred Friendly: Turn the phones on!

Fred Friendly: There's no news, boys, so go out there and make some news. Rob a bank, mug an old lady, whatever - just do something.

Karen Sisco: You think I'll shoot you?

Jack Foley: If you don't someone else will.

Karen Sisco: Put the gun down.

Jack Foley: I'm not going back.

Karen Sisco: Jack please don't make me do this. Put the gun down.

Jack Foley: No more timeouts.

Maurice "Snoopy" Miller: [realizing his gun is empty, as Foley points one at him] You don't have an extra clip I can use, do you?

Jack Foley: No, I don't.

Maurice "Snoopy" Miller: You ain't never shot a gun before, have you?

Jack Foley: Not until recently, no.

Maurice "Snoopy" Miller: You nervous?

Jack Foley: A little, yeah.

Maurice "Snoopy" Miller: You know, in a situation like this, there's a high potentiality for the common motherfucker to bitch out.

Jack Foley: [pulls the trigger] So I figure, why take a chance?

Jack Foley: There's something I want you to know. I wasn't just looking for a fuck, if that's what you're thinking.

Karen Sisco: Or, I was...

Jack Foley: Why are you mad?

Karen Sisco: I was looking for some kinky thrill...you know, score with the bank robber. The way some women go for rough trade...

Jack Foley: All right. Now I can say that I fucked a U.S. Marshal. Do you think I will?

Karen Sisco: I don't know.

Jack Foley: Mm-hmm. Come here. I know a guy...walks into a bank with a bottle, tells everybody it's nitroglycerin. He scores some cash off of the teller. On his way out, he drops the bottle. It cracks on the floor. He slips in it. He smacks up his head. They get him. The nitroglycerin was canola oil. I know more fucked-up bank robbers than ones that know what they're doing. I doubt one in ten could tell you where the dye pack is. Most bank robbers are fucking morons. For you to go to bed with one for kinky thrills, like you were saying, makes you as dumb as they are. Now, you are not dumb. Why would you think that? Why would you think that I would think that?

Karen Sisco: You're not dumb.

Jack Foley: Well, I don't know about that. I mean, you can't do three falls and think you have much of a brain.

Karen Sisco: What were you going to do with me?

Jack Foley: I hadn't really worked that part out yet. All I knew is that I liked you, and that I didn't wanna...leave you there on the side of the road and never see you again.

Karen Sisco: Then you waved to me in that elevator.

Jack Foley: Yeah, I wasn't sure if you caught that.

Karen Sisco: I couldn't believe it.

Jack Foley: By that time I had been...thinking about you a lot...and just wondering what it would be like if we met, if we could take a time-out.

Karen Sisco: I was thinking the same thing. I kept thinking, "What if we took a time-out?

Jack Foley: If we... just spent some time together.

Karen Sisco: [at the hotel bar] So tell me, Gary, what do you do for a living?

Jack Foley: How far do you want to go with this?

Karen Sisco: Not yet. Don't say anything yet.

Jack Foley: I don't think it works if we're somebody else. I mean, Gary and Celeste, what do they know about anything?

Karen Sisco: Well, this is your game, I've never played before.

Jack Foley: It's not a game. It's not something you play.

Karen Sisco: Well, does this make any sense to you?

Jack Foley: It doesn't have to. It's something that happens. It's like seeing someone for the first time... like you could be passing on the street, and you look at each other and for a few seconds... there's this kind of a recognition... like you both know something. The next moment, the person's gone, and it's too late to do anything about it. And you always remember it, because it was there, and you let it go, and you think to yourself, "What if I had stopped? If I had said something?

Jack Foley: What if, what if?" And it may only happen a few times in your life.

Jack Foley: Or once.

Karen Sisco: [pause] Or once. How'd you find me?

Jack Foley: Uh...Called your room from downstairs.

Karen Sisco: Oh. And if I had answered, what were you gonna say?

Jack Foley: I would say who I was, and do you remember me, and want to meet for a drink?

Karen Sisco: If I remembered you. I came here looking for you. All right, so then I would have said yes, but for all you know, I could have had a SWAT team waiting for you... why would you trust me?

Jack Foley: It'd be worth the risk.

Karen Sisco: You like taking risks.

Jack Foley: So do you.

Jack Foley: You sure are easy to talk to. I was thinkin', if we met under different circumstances...if you were in a bar and I came up and we started talkin'...I wonder what would happen.

Karen Sisco: Nothing.

Jack Foley: If you didn't know who I was.

Karen Sisco: You'd probably tell me.

Jack Foley: Just saying if we met under different circumstances...

Karen Sisco: You have got to be kidding.

Jack Foley: [in the prison library; points to a sign that says "Quiet Please"] Hey! Sign says "shut the fuck up," or can't you fellas read?

Maurice "Snoopy" Miller: The fuck you talkin to man? You got a problem over there, Foley?

Jack Foley: Yeah, I got a problem: this is the dumbest fuckin shakedown in the history of dumb shakedowns. Five hundred bucks for a pillow?

Jack Foley: If you're smart, Ripley, you'll tell this guy to fuck off.

Richard Ripley: Really?

Richard Ripley: Well, I - I - I don't know.

Jack Foley: First of all, if he kills you, then he's gonna get nothin'.

Maurice "Snoopy" Miller: Well, uh, the man don't just have to die, Foley. I mean, he could accidentally hurt himself falling down on something real hard, you know. Like a shiv, or my dick.

Richard Ripley: [whispers to Foley] I'll pay. I'll pay it. Don't worry.

Jack Foley: If he falls on anything, Snoop, then they're transfer his ass outta here faster than you can throw a fight, and you're still gonna get nothin'.

Maurice "Snoopy" Miller: You know, last time I checked, man, this shit over here ain't got nothin to do with you, Foley. Why don't you go outside man? Smoke a cigarette or some shit?

Mussawi: [pause; rips off one of Bob's nails] Bob, what do you know about the torture methods used by the Chinese on the Falun Gong? Huh? Method number one. What's your guess? Water dungeon. Did you guess water dungeon? Number two method? Number two, twisting arm and putting face in feces. Not interested in two. Number three. Number three is called pulling nails from fingers'. What do you think Bob? Number three sound good to you? The purpose is to get the monks or whatever to recant their beliefs. What if I had to get you to recant? That would be pretty difficult right? Because if you have no beliefs to recant then what? Then you're fucked is what. You're going to give me the names of every person who's taken money from you. Oh that is disgusting.

Bob Barnes: Come on Jimmy, you're not one of those Koran thumpers!

Mussawi: [rips off another nail, then starts punching Bob] My name is Mussawi. You fucking fuck, fucking fuck, stupid fuck, what the fuck, this is a war! Fuck you're a PO fucking W! Give me the fucking names! I'm cutting his fucking head off. I'm going to cut your head off, Bob!

Dean Whiting: In this town, you're innocent until you're investigated.

Bob Barnes: Innocent until investigated? That's nice. It's got a nice ring to it. Bet you've worn some miles on old sayings like that. Gives the listener the sense of the law being written as it's spoken.

Bob Barnes: I want you to take him from his hotel, drug him, put him in the front of a car, and run a truck into it at 50 mph.

Bob Barnes: If anything happens to me or my family, an accident, an accusation, anything, then first your son will disappear, his body will never be found. Then your wife. Her body will never be found either. This is guaranteed. Then, whatever is the most dangerous thing you do in your life, it might be flying in a small plane, it might be walking to the bank, you will be killed. Do you understand what I'm saying? I want you to acknowledge that you do understand so that we're clear and there won't be any mistakes.

Seth Gecko: Now is my shit together, or is my shit together?

Seth Gecko: Shit, I been to bars make this place look like a fuckin 4-H club.

Richie Gecko: I gotta say I'm with Jacob on this. I been to some fucked up places in my time, but that place is fucked up.

Richie Gecko: Where are my glasses?

Seth Gecko: They broke when you fell.

Richie: Oh, fuck, Seth, these are like my only pair!

Seth: Don't worry about it.

Richie: What do you mean, don't worry about it? Of course I'm gonna worry about it. I can't fuckin see!

Seth: I'll take care of it when we get to El Rey.

Richie: Yeah, like some Mexican hole in the wall's gonna have my fuckin prescription.

Seth: It is not a big deal until you make it a big deal. Now I was in a very good mood, so stop bringing me down with this bullshit!

Seth Gecko: [talking to Jacob about his wife's death in a car crash] Died right away?

Jacob Fuller: Not quite. She was trapped in the wreck for about six hours before she passed on.

Seth: Yeah, those acts of God really stick it in and break it off, don't they?

Jacob: Yes, they do.

Seth Gecko: So, what's the story with you two, you a couple of fags?

Jacob Fuller: He's my son.

Seth: How's that happen? You don't look Japanese.

Jacob: Neither does he. He looks Chinese.

Seth: Oh. Well, excuse me all to hell.

Seth Gecko: What did I tell you? What did I say to you?! I said "Buy the road map and leave".

Richie Gecko: The fuck was I supposed to do, Seth? He recognized us.

Seth: He didn't recognize shit!

Richie: Seth, I'm telling you. The way he looked at us, you especially, I knew he knew.

Seth: Low profile". Do you understand the meaning of the words "low profile"?

Richie: Hey, Richie, how's your hand?" It hurts like a fucking son of a bitch. Thanks for asking, Seth!

Seth: Let me tell you what "low profile" is not! It is not taking girls hostage! It is not shooting police officers! It is not setting fire to a building!

Richie: Bitch, bitch, bitch.

Pete Bottoms: [about McGraw] Look, he comes in here everyday, and we bullshit. He's used my toilet a thousand times. If I said no, he'd know somethin was up.

Seth Gecko: I want him out of here, in his car, and down the road within the next five minutes, or you can change the name of this place to Benny's World of Blood.

Seth Gecko: I may be a bastard, but I'm not a fuckin bastard.

Seth Gecko: All right, ramblers... Let's get ramblin'.

Seth Gecko: All right, vampire killers... let's kill some fucking vampires.

Seth Gecko: I'm gonna kill every last one of you godless fuckin pieces of shit!

Seth Gecko: And if there is a hell, and those sons of bitches are from it, then there has got to be a heaven, Jacob. There's got to be.

Seth Gecko: So what are you, Jacob? A faithless preacher? Or a mean motherfuckin servant of God?

Seth Gecko: I know what's going on. We got a bunch of fucking vampires out there trying to get in here and suck our fucking blood - and that's it, plain and simple! Now I don't want to hear anything about "I don't believe in vampires", cause I don't fucking believe in vampires, but I believe in my own two eyes, and what I saw is fucking vampires!

Seth Gecko: Richie, here is the peace in death that I could not give you in life!

Seth Gecko: [puts a gun to Sex-Machine's head] You touch my brother with that stake, biker, and vampires won't have to suck your blood. They'll be able to lick it up off the floor.

Seth Gecko: I know that I have put you through hell, and I know that I have been one rough pecker. But from here on, you are all in my cool book.

Seth Gecko: Do you think this is who I am? I am a professional thief, I don't run around killing people I don't have to.

Seth Gecko: Don't you ever try and fucking run on us, cause I've got six little friends and they can all run faster than you can.

Seth Gecko: [holds up gun] Let me explain the house rules. Follow the rules, we'll get along like a house on fire. Rule number one: No noise, no questions. You make a noise... Mr. .44 makes a noise. You ask a question, Mr. .44 answers it.

Seth Gecko: Now I'm gonna ask you one question, and all I want is a yes or no answer: Do you wanna live through this?

Seth Gecko: Well, your best better get a hell of a lot fucking better, or you are gonna feel a hell of a lot fucking worse. Everybody be cool. You — be cool!

Ryan Bingham: Tonight most people will be welcomed home by jumping dogs and squealing kids. Their spouses will ask about their day, and tonight they'll sleep. The stars will wheel forth from their daytime hiding places; and one of those lights, slightly brighter than the rest, will be my wingtip passing over.

Ryan Bingham: [Guiding Natalie through airport check-in, walking past a row with Middle Eastern travelers] Five words: "Randomly selected for additional screening.

Ryan Bingham: [in his seminar] Anybody who ever built an empire, or changed the world, sat where you are now. And it's because they sat there that they were able to do it.

Ryan Bingham: All the things you probably hate about traveling – the recycled air, the artificial lighting, the digital juice dispensers, the cheap sushi – are warm reminders that I’m home.

Ryan Bingham: Now, this is gonna be a little difficult, so stay with me. You have a new backpack. Only this time, I want you to fill it with people. Start with casual acquaintances, friends of friends, folks around the office, and then you move into the people that you trust with your most intimate secrets. Your cousins, your aunts, your uncles, your brothers, your sisters, your parents and finally your husband, your wife, your boyfriend or your girlfriend. You get them into that backpack. And don't worry. I'm not gonna ask you to light it on fire. Feel the weight of that bag. Make no mistake - your relationships are the heaviest components in your life. Do you feel the straps cutting into your shoulders? All those negotiations and arguments, and secrets and compromises. You don't need to carry all that weight. Why don't you set that bag down? Some animals were meant to carry each other, to live symbiotically for a lifetime - star crossed lovers, monogamous swans. We are not those animals. The slower we move, the faster we die. We are not swans. We're sharks.

Ryan Bingham: How much does your life weigh? Imagine for a second that you're carrying a backpack. I want you to feel the straps on your shoulders. Feel em? Now I want you to pack it with all the stuff that you have in your life. You start with the little things. The things on shelves and in drawers, the knick-knacks, the collectibles. Feel the weight as that adds up. Then you start adding larger stuff, clothes, table-top appliances, lamps, linens, your TV. The backpack should be getting pretty heavy now. And you go bigger. Your couch, bed, your kitchen table. Stuff it all in there. Your car, get it in there. Your home, whether it's a studio apartment or a two bedroom house. I want you to stuff it all into that backpack. Now try to walk. It's kind of hard, isn't it? This is what we do to ourselves on a daily basis. We weigh ourselves down until we can't even move. And make no mistake, moving is living. Now, I'm gonna set that backpack on fire. What do you want to take out of it? What do you want to take out of it? Photos? Photos are for people who can't remember. Drink some ginkgo and let the photos burn. In fact, let everything burn and imagine waking up tomorrow with nothing. It's kind of exhilarating, isn't it?

Devlin: Hello, Juni.

Juni: Mr. President?

Devlin: Oh, you can call me Devlin.

Juni: Weren't you already running the country when you were head of the OSS?

Devlin: Well, I was running the country, but since the OSS is a secret organization, no one knew it. I wanted the world to know that I was in charge, so I became President of the United States. It all depends upon your preference. Reality or perception. Perception works for me.

Juni: Well, I'm into reality, and the reality is nothing you can say will make me rejoin the OSS. That is why you called, isn't it?

Devlin: The OSS needs you to return.

Juni: I'm retired.

Devlin: Well, who's living perception now? The fact is, there is no retirement. Once an agent, always an agent. Now it's time for you to be a big boy and reinstate.

Juni: [shakes his head] With all due respect, sir... No.

Devlin: Well, then hold onto your seat, because here's the reality; Your sister's missing.

Chuck Barris: I've got important things to think about here. I don't have time to fuck around with you.

Jim Byrd: Okay, I'll help you out with your little show. Tit for tat. That's the kinda guy I am. I've seen this "Dating Game" of yours, Chuck. And I have a thought.

Chuck Barris: What, now you're a television producer?

Jim Byrd: Hey, I'm John Q. Public when it comes to TV and that should make my opinion of interest to you.

Chuck Barris: [nods] Let's hear it then.

Jim Byrd: Well, what do you have now? The couple gets sent to some stupid second-rate Hollywood shitcan restaurant, right? Sets you back fifty bucks? That's not too exciting a prize to us vicarious living boobs out in TV-land.

Chuck Barris: Yeah, what's your point?

Jim Byrd: Up the stakes, Chuckles. Send em to some exotic locale. Europe, Southeast Asia, for example.

Chuck Barris: The network's not going to let me send two unmarried kids on vacation together.

Jim Byrd: Send em with a chaperone.

Chuck Barris: [beat] You know... that's not half bad.

Jim Byrd: I'm telling ya. And sometimes you can be the chaperone, Chuckie. Let's say we have a job for you in Austria. You, a successful TV producer, above suspicion, chaperones the young couple, and while you're there, you take care of some Company business. It's the perfect cover. TV producer by day, CIA operative by night.

Chuck Barris: I told you, I don't have to kill people for money anymore.

Jim Byrd: Chuck, when I said you fit our profile, very little of that had to do with you needing the money. Some of it, but very little. You liked it with Renda, Chuck. I saw it in your eyes. You liked it but you botched it. Don't you want to get really good at something, Chuck?

Jim Byrd: He's a bad guy. He's one of the bad guys.

Chuck Barris: Bad for the US, right, Jim? Not bad in the absolute sense. Just bad for the US.

Jim Byrd: Don't fuckin dance with me. Renda's bad for the Tea & Biscuit Company. He's bad for me personally. You work for me. Renda's bad for me... You're now officially a patriotic citizen of the United States of Jim Byrd. There's no backing out now. We let you in on everything. You don't play. You don't leave. You understand that? You don't play... You don't leave.

Simon Oliver: You are a bloody amateur.

Chuck Barris: You're a faggot.

Jim Byrd: Chuck.

Simon Oliver: Tell me, Mr. Barris, are you in possession of my microfilm?

Chuck Barris: Yeah, I got it.

Simon Oliver: Let's have it, then.

Chuck Barris: It's up my ass, Oliver, why don't you reach on up there and get it?

Chuck Barris: [after Byrd tells Chuck to kill the unknown "mole"] Hey, I got an idea. If you aren't so bad... why don't you do it? Why don't you kill the mole? You got a problem with killing, Jim?

Jim Byrd: I just don't fit the profile.

Chuck Barris: What fucking profile? There is no fucking profile.

Jim Byrd: Okay, there's no profile.

Chuck Barris: There's no profile.

Jim Byrd: Okay. Let's see. Well, you had a twin sister, stillborn, strangled by your umbilical cord. Your first hit, Chuck. Your mother always wanted a daughter. She blamed you for your sister's death. And, so, until your sister Phoebe was born, she raised you as a girl. Oh, and your father the dentist? Not really your father. Your biological father was a man named Edmund James Windsor. A serial killer. A fact your mother didn't know when she had an affair with him in 1930. If you want to look him up, he was also known as the Tarrytown Troll, because he had been described by witnesses as short and ugly. Windsor died in the electrical chair at Ossining in 1939. We believed your self-loathing tendencies coupled with that extra Y chromosome and whatever else you inherited from your father would serve us well. I'm trying to think what more I can tell you, but you have me at a disadvantage here, Barris. I don't have your files in front of me.

Jim Byrd: Think of it as a hobby. Something you do to relax. You're an "assassination enthusiast.

Jim Byrd: [[Jesus] You're 32 years old, and you've achieved nothing. ] Christ was dead and alive again by 33. You better get crackin'.

Athena: Frank?

Frank Walker: Yeah?

Athena: [[laugh] You want to know why you could never make me ]?

Frank Walker: Why?

Athena: [Frank and Athena laugh] Because you're not funny. You can let me go now. Goodbye, Frank.

Frank Walker: Goodbye, Athena.

Athena: The Monitor — the bomb is gone, but I'm not... yet. There isn't much time. My self-destruct. Use it. You know what to do, Frank. This … set it right this time.

Frank Walker: I thought you can't have ideas.

Athena: Well, what do you know?

Frank Walker: What do you know?

Athena: Systems failing.

David Nix: Ah, it's uninhabited, and uncharted; looks like a perfect place to spend your last days.

Frank Walker: [[w:tachyons|tachyons] David, the monitor is acting as an antenna. It isn't just receiving ], it is taking a possible future and making it likely...

Casey Newton: ...And amplifying it — transmitting it, like a feedback loop.

Frank Walker: [[w:self-fulfilling prophecy|self-fulfilling prophecy] It's a ], that's coming from right there.

Casey Newton: But it's not just showing people the end of the world. It's giving them the idea — over and over and over again — so they just accept it!

Frank Walker: It's a ticking time bomb — and we're the ones that lit the fuse.

Casey Newton: We still have, like 58 days to try to change things - but nothing will work — as long as that thing is still on.

David Nix: Young lady, I'm going to assume that your knowledge of tachyonic fusion is a bit sketchy; shutting it down is impossible; there is no "off.

Casey Newton: I'm telling you what it's doing. Why don't you care?

Frank Walker: Because he's the one who's doing it... right?

Casey Newton: You were pirating the signal. How?

Frank Walker: What?

Casey Newton: At your house, all your TVs, your "Doomsday room" — you were boosting the feed from that monitor thing. How did you do that?

Frank Walker: No big deal, they're running so much power through it now a HAM radio could pick it up — it's just a matter of finding the right frequency.

Casey Newton: You grabbed a signal from another dimension, from a machine here — that means it's transmitting there. What if its not just predicting the future …

Frank Walker: … It's broadcasting it.

Casey Newton: [[wrong] When I touched this thing, for a few minutes, it felt like anything was possible. So why can't the opposite happen? What if the monitor is just a giant pin, but instead of making you think positive? It makes you think negative, and it — it's convincing the whole world to feed the ] wolf. We need to turn that thing off.

David Nix: Well Frank, it's been wonderful catching up, but as we were fairly clear about the terms of your exile and the consequences of your violating it — what the hell are you doing here?

Frank Walker: I think she can fix it.

David Nix: [puzzled] I'm sorry, I…

Frank Walker: [indicating Casey] Her. I think she can fix it, David.

Casey Newton: Wait— What?

Frank Walker: I've been pirating your signal. Every time you turn it on here I can see it there, and it flickered. A percentage dropped, David.

David Nix: Impossible.

Frank Walker: You don’t believe me? Let's go find out.

Casey Newton: I'm sorry. What can I fix?

David Nix: [[world] The ], Miss Newton. He thinks you can fix the world.

Frank Walker: Okay, accept that there is a world where I know, with absolute certainty the exact time of your death? Now, do want me to tell you, or not?

Casey Newton: Of course I would. Who wouldn't? But what if accepting my death is what causes it? So the answer is yes. I would want you to tell me, but I wouldn’t believe you.

Frank Walker: You have to believe me.

Casey Newton: [[destiny; probability factor on Frank's monitor reduces from 100% to 99.9994% — and she is puzzled to see him staring at it] Why, don’t we like make our own ] and stuff? What?

Frank Walker: [Shocked] Who are you, kid?

Frank Walker: [runs to the door and tugs at it] Oh, you little... You know I can call the cops anytime! Anytime! You have– I'm giving you 5 seconds to–

Casey Newton: [from inside the house] I am not leaving! Either tell me how to get there, or kill me!

Frank Walker: [from outside the house] If you touch anything in there, that's exactly what I'll do! What are you doing?!

Casey Newton: [sarcastic] I'm touching things!

Frank Walker: [bangs on the door; bangs on the door again] Open this door now! I mean it! I'll knock you out!

Casey Newton: [sees an interesting object and picks it up; to Frank, to taunt him] Hey, what's this doing with the trombone-sliding-thing?

Frank Walker: Leave that alone! I'm serious!

Casey Newton: Will you take me there?

Frank Walker: No!

Casey Newton: Then you're not serious!

Athena: [of Frank's rocket pack] Did you make this yourself?

Frank Walker: Yeah.

Athena: Why?

Walker: [he and Athena smiles] I guess I got tired of waiting around for someone else to do it for me.

Frank Walker: Find the ones who haven't given up. They're the future.

Frank Walker: * In a fold-out note to Athena.

Frank Walker: We are the Future.

Frank Walker: When I was a kid, the future was different.

Frank Walker: [[story; [future] Okay, let's get you up to speed. This is a ] about the ]. The future can be scary.

Baird Whitlock: These guys are pretty interesting, though. They've actually figured out the laws that dictate - everything! History! Sociology! Politics! Morality! Everything! It's all in a book called Capital - with a "K".

Eddie Mannix: Is that right?

Baird Whitlock: Yeah. You're not going to believe this. These guys even figured out what's going on here at the Studio. Because the Studio is nothing more than an instrument of capitalism. Yeah, so we blindly follow these laws like any any other institution. Laws that these guys figured out. The Studio makes pictures to serve the System. That is its function! That's really what we're up to here.

Eddie Mannix: Is it?

Baird Whitlock: Yeah. It's just confirming what they call - the status quo. I mean, we may tell ourselves that we're creating something of artistic value or there's some sort of spiritual dimension to the picture business. But, what it really is, is this fat cat, Nick Skank, out in New York, running this factory, serving up these lollipops to the - what they used to call the bread and circuses for the...

Eddie Mannix: [Grabs Baird and slaps him] Now, you listen to me, buster. Nick Skank and the Studio have been good to you and to everyone else who works here. If I ever hear you bad mouthing Mr. Skank again, it'll be the last thing you say before I have you tossed in jail for colluding in your own abduction.

Baird Whitlock: Eddie, I wouldn't, I would never do that!

Eddie Mannix: [Slaps Baird some more; slaps Baird some more] Shut up! You're gonna go out there and you're going to finish "Hail Caesar!" You're gonna give that speech at the feet of the penitent thief and you're gonna believe every word you say. You're going to do it because you're an actor and that's what you do. Just like the director does what he does and the writer and the script girl and the guy who claps the slate. You're gonna do it because the picture has worth! And you have worth if you serve the picture and you're never gonna forget that again.

Baird Whitlock: I won't forget, Eddie.

Eddie Mannix: Damn right, you won't. Not as long as I run this dump.

Baird Whitlock: That's what happened to me when I went to Reno with Danny Kaye and he asked me to shave his back. Exact same thing. Because, I'm thinkin', who benefits? So, let me tell ya, everybody thinks that Danny's a jerk, he's not really a jerk. That's just a theory generating its own anti-theory. Anyway, there we were, it's me and Danny and I'm wondering what the hell am I doin with a razor in my hand? And he says it's for a Norman Taurog picture. But, Judy Canova's there and she knows Norman and she says, "Danny's not doing a Norman Taurog picture! He just wants you to shave his back!" And that's who benefits!

Baird Whitlock: Hey, Hobie. You're a Communist, too?

Harry Pfarrer: [panicking, after having reflexively shot Chad in the head] Oh, my fuck! I shot a fucking spook! Who the fuck are you, you fucker?!

Danny Ocean: Do I look 50 to you?

Danny Ocean: [watching "Happy Days" dubbed in Italian] That guy doing Potsie is unbelievable.

Danny Ocean: If all the animals on the equator were capable of flattery, then Thanksgiving and Halloween would fall on the same date.