Ian HolmQuotes

Sam Mussabini: [to Harold in training] I want you to pretend you're running on hot bricks: if you leave your feet too long on the ground, they'll get burned! Pop, pop, pop! Light, light, light as a feather!

Sam Mussabini: Do you want to know why you lost today?

Sam Mussabini: You're over striding. Just a couple of inches.

Sam Mussabini: Now these coins represent the steps in your sprint.

Sam Mussabini: Have you got another two coins, Mr. Abrahams? Well, maybe we can find em.

Sam Mussabini: Remember, over striding – death for the sprinter.

Sam Mussabini: Slap in the face, each step you take. Knocks you back.

Sam Mussabini: Like that!

Sam Mussabini: And that!

Dennis: Sorry mates, but we've just about run out of petrol.

Simon: [grabs a bottle of Scotch] Hey. Is there any chance that it will run on this?

Terry Rapson: [Simon pours the scotch into three glasses] Are you mad? That's a 12-year-old Scotch!

Simon: Gentlemen. To England.

Rapson: To Mankind.

Dennis: [[w:Manchester United|Manchester United; They drink] To ]!

Simon: [remembers his infant son] I just ... I just wish I could have seen him grow up, you know?

Rapson: [The last of the petroleum fuel burns out, and the power fails] The important thing is that he will grow up.

Dennis: [softly] Amen.

Terry Rapson: Jack, were you able to recreate the thermal cycle?

Jack Hall: Yes. The storm's rotation is pulling super-cooled air from the upper troposphere.

Rapson: But, shouldn't the air warm up before it reaches ground level?

Hall: It should, but it doesn't; the air is descending too rapidly.

Rapson: Is this an isolated incident?

Hall: I'm afraid not. We've located two other supercells in addition to the one over Scotland. There's one over northern Canada, and another one over Siberia.

Rapson: And do we know their projected path?

Hall: [Shows the projected size and location of the storms, over a layout of the continents to Rapson via their computer connection; Shows the next image; last image shows the storms having expanded to have combined to cover the entire planet's surface] Yes. Our previous estimates of 6-8 weeks weren't even close. This one storm is going to change the face of our planet. Here's a projection of 24 hours out. This is 48 hours out... And in 7 to 10 days. When this storm is over, we'll be in a new Ice Age.

Rapson: ...My God.

Hall: Professor, I think it's time you got out of there.

Terry Rapson: I'm afraid that time has come and gone, my friend.

Hall: ...What can we do?

Rapson: Save as many as you can.

Terry Rapson: [Over the phone] What I'm about to tell you is supposed to be confidential. Several hours ago, three helicopters went down over Scotland. They crashed because the fuel in their lines froze.

Jack Hall: At what temperature does-

Rapson: -150° Fahrenheit. I mean, we had to look it up! The temperature dropped phenomenally fast! On the ground, people froze before they could get out of their cars!

Hall: Can you get me a satellite picture of Scotland two hours ago?

Janet: Yeah.

Rapson: We've got mountains of data, but nowhere near enough computer power to analyze it. Can you help us?

Hall: Send us what you've got, we'll do our best.

Rapson: [hangs up] Thanks, Jack. Bye for now.

Janet: This is Scotland at the time the temperature dropped.

Hall: This thing looks just like a hurricane.

Janet: Only hurricanes don't form over land.

Terry Rapson: This is very odd. There's a buoy here registering a thirteen-degree drop in ocean temperature.

Simon: Oh, yeah, that's right. That buoy malfunctioned the other day. I'll put a call in, see if there are any ships near George's Bank to get it.

Rapson: This buoy isn't in George's Bank. It's just off Greenland.

Simon: [zooms the map out to show both buoys flashing] It is? What are the odds of two buoys failing?

Rapson: [A third one in a different area begins flashing] Remote. Make that three.

Professor Fitz: Mr. Hughes! Mr. Hughes! Oakland! There are clouds in Oakland!

Howard: You're serious this time?

Professor Fitz: Yes! Goddammit, yes. I can promise you, clouds in Oakland.

Howard: [Turns to his crew] Alright, alright. Don't get jittery on me. OAKLAND! WE'RE GOING TO OAKLAND!

Howard: I've been to Chatsworth, Santa Cruz, Encino, San Diego, Riverside, Van Nuys, and Bakersfield. It has been eight months! Where are my goddamn clouds, huh?

Professor Fitz: [shouting in frustration] They move, Mr. Hughes! Clouds move — that's what they do! They move!

Jean-Baptiste Emanuel Zorg: It's nice to see you again, Father.

Father Vito Cornelius: Ah, I remember you now. The so-called art dealer.

Zorg: [directs his men out of his office] I'm glad you got your memory back. Because you're gonna need it. Where are the stones?

Cornelius: I don't know. And even if I did know, I wouldn't tell somebody like you.

Zorg: Why? What's wrong with me?

Cornelius: I try to serve life. But you only…seem to want to destroy it.

Zorg: [closes office door, places an empty glass on desk; Pushes glass off table; robot cleaners move to clean broken glass; Desk prepares a glass of water and a bowl of fruit] Oh, Father, you're so wrong. Let me explain. Life, which you so nobly serve, comes from destruction, disorder and chaos. Take this empty glass. Here it is, peaceful, serene and boring. But if it is destroyed… Look at all these little things. So busy now. Notice how each one is useful. What a lovely ballet ensues, so full of form and color. Now, think about all those people that created them. Technicians, engineers, hundreds of people who'll be able to feed their children tonight so those children can grow up big and strong and have little teeny weeny children of their own, and so on and so forth. Thus, adding to the great chain…of life. You see, Father, by creating a little destruction, I'm actually encouraging life. In reality, you and I are in the same business. Cheers.

Cornelius: [Desk brings out Zorg's pet Picasso; Zorg motions it to try and help him; slaps Zorg in the back, causing him to spit the cherry at Picasso] Where's the robot to pat you in the back? Or the engineer? Or their children, maybe? There, you see how all your so-called power counts for absolutely nothing? How your entire empire of destruction comes crashing down. All because of one…little…cherry.

Zorg: [opens doors, throws Cornelius to guards] You saved my life, and in return, I'll spare yours... For now.

Priest Vito Cornelius: You're a monster, Zorg.

Zorg: [directs guards to take Cornelius away; snaps fingers] ...I know. Torture who you have to. The President, I don't care. Just bring me those stones. You have one hour.

Jean-Baptiste Emanuel Zorg: This case is empty.

Father Vito Cornelius: What do you mean, empty?

Zorg: Empty. As in the opposite of full. This CASE is SUPPOSED to be FULL! ...Anyone care to explain?

Cornelius: The guardians... gave the stones.. to someone they could trust... who-who another route... she's supposed to contact this person... in a hotel... and she's looking for the address. Easy.

Leeloo: [points to the computer screen] Dot.

David: It's-it's planet Fhloston, in the Angel Constellation!

Cornelius: [sighs in relief] We're saved.

Zorg: I'm screwed!

Aknot: You asked for a case. We brought you a case.

Zorg: A CASE WITH FOUR STONES IN IT! NOT ONE OR TWO OR THREE, BUT FOUR! FOUR STONES! W-WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH AN EMPTY CASE?!

Aknot: We are warriors, not merchants.

Zorg: [Aknot looks away; Zorg slaps his face back into position; of guns; To his men] BUT YOU CAN STILL COUNT! Look, it's easy. Look at my fingers. Four stones, four crates . Zero stones, ZERO CRATES! Pack everything up! We're outta here!

Aknot: We risked our lives! I believe a little compensation is in order.

Zorg: Oh, so you are merchants after all. Leave them one crate... for the cause.

Ripley: [watching Ash examine the creature] That's amazing. What is it?

Ash: Uh, yes, it is. Uh, I don't know yet. Did you want something?

Ripley: Yes, I, uh … have a little talk. How's Kane?

Ash: He's holding, no changes.

Ripley: And, uh... our guest?

Ash: Oh.

Ripley: Hm?

Ash: Well, as I said, I'm still... collating, actually. But I have confirmed that he's got an outer layer of protein polysaccharides. Has a funny habit of shedding his cells and replacing them with polarized silicon, which gives him a prolonged resistance to adverse environmental conditions. Is that enough?

Dallas: Okay, Ripley, we're clean. Let us in.

Ripley: What happened to Kane?

Dallas: Something's attached itself to him. We have to get him to the infirmary right away.

Ripley: What kind of thing? I need a clear definition.

Dallas: An organism. Open the hatch!

Ripley: Wait a minute. If we let it in, the ship could be infected. You know the quarantine procedures: 24 hours for decontamination.

Dallas: He could die in 24 hours! Open the hatch.

Ripley: Listen to me. If we break quarantine, we could all die.

Lambert: Look! Would you open the goddamn hatch? We have to get him inside!

Ripley: [briefly pauses] No. And if you were in my position, you'd do the same.

Dallas: Ripley, this is an order. You open that hatch right now, you hear me?

Ripley: Yes.

Dallas: Ripley, that was an order! Do you hear me?!

Ripley: Yes, I read you. The answer is negative.

Ash: [opens the inner hatch door and lets Dallas and Lambert in with Kane] Inner hatch opened.

Ripley: Ash, that transmission, MOTHER's deciphered part of it. It doesn't look like an S.O.S.

Ash: What is it, then?

Ripley: Well, it looks like a warning. I'm gonna go out after them.

Ash: What's the point? I mean, by the, the time it takes to get there, you'll, they'll know if it's a warning or not, yes?

Bilbo: It's mine...my own... My precious...

Hobbits: Speech, Bilbo! Speech!

Frodo: Speech!

Bilbo: [cheers; cheers; cheers; cheers; cheers; cheers; cheers] My dear Bagginses and Boffins. Tooks and Brandybucks. Grubbs. Chubbs. HORNBLOWERS! BOLGERS! BRACEGIRDLES! AND PROUDFOOTS!

Proudfoot: Proudfeet!

Bilbo: Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday!

Hobbits: Happy birthday!

Bilbo: [cheers abound until Bilbo continues his next lines; confused silence; puts the Ring on and vanishes] Alas, eleventy one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable Hobbits. I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve. I, uh, I have things to do...I've put this off for far too long. I regret to announce this is the end. I'm going now. I bid you all a very fond farewell. Goodbye.

Gandalf: Frodo suspects something.

Bilbo: Of course he does! He's a Baggins! Not some blockheaded Bracegirdle from Hardbottle.

Bilbo: No, thank you! We don't want any more visitors, well-wishers, or distant relations!

Gandalf: And what about very old friends?