Philip Baker HallQuotes

Nick Brady: Let's bet how many times he says shit'. I say seven.

Shawn Colfax: No way. Ten.

Nick Brady, Shawn Colfax: Hey coach!

Coach Byrnes: You shitheads think you're the shit? That you don't need to pay attention out there? I'll kick the shit outta ya! You pumped for football camp?

Shawn Colfax: Eh, I guess so.

Nick Brady: Yeah, two weeks without girls. Who wouldn't be pumped?

Coach Byrnes: Don't mess with me shitdick! I'm gonna push ya like you've never been pushed before. Your muscles will ache, your head will throb. You're gonna shit blood out of holes you never knew you had.

Nick Brady: Well at least we're gonna be in Daytona Beach.

Coach Byrnes: No no. They changed it up this year. Camp's gonna be in El Paso, Texas. Hotter than your shithole. We're gonna get you shits conditioned! Bus leaves Monday at o shithundred hours.

Nick Brady: Which is...?

Coach Byrnes: 4:45 am.

Nick Brady: Of course.

Shawn Colfax: As usual.

Nick Brady: Mhmm.

Coach Byrnes: Skip your morning shit and get down there.

Nick Brady: Ten shits'. You win. How do you always know?

Shawn Colfax: It's a gift. I'm not proud of it.

Alan: I’m Alan Lombardo: stage 3 lymphoma. Pleased to meet you.

Mitch: Mitch Barnett, metastatic prostate cancer.

Adam: [[w:Malignant peripheral nerve sheath tumor|schwannoma neurofibrosarcoma] Oh, I’m Adam Lerner, ].

Alan: Whoa, what the fuck is that?

Mitch: Tough break. The more syllables, the worse it is.

Mitch: So you want to drive, right now?

Alan: Yeah.

Mitch: You sure that's what you want to do?

Mitch: That's your make-a-wish? To drive?

Alan: Want a macaroon?

Adam: Oh, thanks. I’m alright.

Alan: [leans forward and whispers] There’s weed in ‘em.

Adam: Oh, yeah, thank you, but I - I don’t do weed.

Alan: C’mon, man. Just get high with us!

Adam: Okay. Thanks.

Mitch: How old are you?

Adam: Twenty-seven.

Alan: That’s just the worst. A perfectly good youth wasted.

Mitch: Alan, stop it. Don’t listen to him, he's just messing with you.

Alan: Listen to me, this cancer is bullshit. First your hair’s going to fall out, then your balls’ll shrink. And if that isn’t enough, your dick becomes a constant source of disappointment.

Adam: I got to tell you, I was really nervous about this whole cancer thing, and then I met you guys, and boy do I feel better.

John: [on the phone] Thanks for everything, Syd.

Sydney: There's something I need to tell you. It's something you need to know. It's important. I need to tell you. I love you, John. I love you like you were my own son.

John: Thank you, Syd. I love you too.

Jimmy: What I mean - what I believe... is that you killed his father... like the stories I heard go. Now, if somebody killed my father... I would feel the need to do something. The stories I heard - you know, stories get around - is that you used to be a hard-ass. You were a hard-ass and you took his dad out, Sydney. So you think - what? You can just walk through this life... without being punished for it? Shit, man. I know all those guys you know. Floyd Gondolli, Jimmy Gator, Mumbles O'Malley. They like to sit around in Clifton's and talk, talk, talk. They love to tell stories. You can sit there and look at me sideways all you want. You probably think I'm some kind of asshole or something... but I'm not a killer... like you. You walk around like you're Mr. Cool, Mr. Wisdom... but you're not. You're just some old hood. The other night in the bar, you asking me a question... like do I do parking lot security? Well, the answer is no! I'm trusted security inside the casino. I'm trusted with security, and I don't fuck it up.

Sydney: Good that you have such a sturdy sense of responsibility.

Jimmy: Don't! Don't! Don't fuckin do that! You understand? I can see right through that shit! You look at me as some idiot, huh? I know you do. I know you. You old guys, you old hoods... you think you're so fuckin above it... so high and mighty. What am I to you? Some loser? Not with a gun in my hand. Not with the facts I know. Bottom line, Sydney. No matter how hard you try... you're not his father.

Sydney: I have the money here. I have the $10,000 here. Not in the bank. I have it here.

Jimmy: I knew that. I knew you did.

Sydney: I have the money to give you right now, in this moment. I will give you all that I have. Maybe before you were gonna kill me. Maybe. I don't know. I know John, and I love him like he was my own child. But I can tell you this: I don't want to die. I killed his father. I can tell you what it was. This is not an excuse. I'm not begging for clemency. All that matters, I do not wish to sacrifice my life for John's well-being. But I will sacrifice this money for mine because you have asked me. Because after this, I will have done all I can for John and for myself. I'm going to ask you with all the heart and sincerity that I have, please do not put a bullet in me. And, please, don't tell John what I've done. I trust that once I give you this money, you and I will take separate paths and that this negotiation will settle everything. That is my hope. I don't wanna die.

Sydney: Where did this thing go wrong?

Clementine: Because he thought that he was smart and I was stupid...and I'm not stupid.

Sydney: Well, this is a pretty stupid situation, isn't it?

Clementine: We'll see how fucking stupid I am when we get my money, won't we?

Sydney: You know the first thing they should have taught you at hooker school? You get the money up front.

Clementine: Fuck you.

John: Syd, don't talk to her like that.

Sydney: I'm having a conversation.

John: Don't talk to her like that.

Sydney: Shut the fuck up.

John: I'm warning you, Syd! Don't fucking talk to her like that! She's my wife! We got married this afternoon.

Sydney: [John has called Sydney to his hotel room asking for help. Sydney knocks, John answers from behind the closed door] John?

John: Sid?

Sydney: Yeah. Open up.

John: Everything cool?

Sydney: What? Yeah, everything's cool. Are you alright?

John: I'm fine.

Sydney: You gonna open the door?

John: I said on the phone, you know... it's kinda screwed up.

Sydney: Yeah, so? Open the door, let's see what's going on.

John: You promise you'll help me?

Sydney: [growing exasperated] John, it's cold out here, open the door.

John: Is everything cool?

Sydney: John, open the goddamn door, will ya?

Sydney: Now what's going on, John?

John: Just - shut the door.

Sydney: Why are the lights out?

John: Okay, Sid?

Sydney: Okay I'm not gonna...

John: Let's just leave them off for a second...

Sydney: I'm not gonna stand here with the lights out.

John: Okay now, you promised you'd help me.

Sydney: What is this, John?

John: I'm sorry, Sid.

Sydney: John, what is this? Who is this man?

John: He's uh... he's a hostage.

Sydney: Here's a robe and some stuff for you.

Clementine: Captain?

Sydney: Yeah?

Clementine: Do you wanna fuck me?

Sydney: Do you think that?

Clementine: Well, you brought me here.

Sydney: Do you think that?

Clementine: I don't know.

Sydney: You should know before you ask a question like that.

Clementine: Well, you're being nice to me--

Sydney: So you'd think I'd want that?

Clementine: If you wanted to fuck me--

Sydney: Stop saying that.

Clementine: It just seemed like--

Sydney: Well, don't let it seem that way. This is a comfortable bed for you. I want you to sleep on it...to give you something to--a place to have a nice shower and a bed.

Clementine: Don't get angry.

Sydney: No, I'm not...because I understand...how you could ask a question like that.

Clementine: Now you really look at me as a piece of shit.

Sydney: No.

Clementine: All right.

Jimmy: Jesus, we are fucking surrounded by pussy here.

Sydney: Hey, hey. Jimmy.

Jimmy: What?

Sydney: [nodding toward Clementine] Not for my ears, but hers. She can hear that sort of thing across the lounge. Puts her in a very uncomfortable position.

Jimmy: I doubt if hearing she's got a great pussy puts her in an uncomfortable position.

Sydney: I just don't want it coming from my table.

Jimmy: You may not know this but half the women that work here are take-home whores anyway. They get off on that shit. I got a friend, works over at the Sand Dunes where I work. This man's in charge of corralling waitresses for that sort of thing. He's in charge. He is the pussy patrol.

Sydney: Jimmy--

Jimmy: What?

Sydney: Just, you know--Hey, I live up here. I know what flies and what don't.

Jimmy: To tell a babe she's got a nice ass is no crime, believe me.

Sydney: [at the cocktail lounge] Tell me something. Are you required to flirt, to behave as you do toward that table of men over there? Maybe... it's some part of your job?

Clementine: Uh, they don't say to do it.

Sydney: But if you don't?

Clementine: Well, then I get questioned, like: "Why were so rude to them?", and, I mean, I can't talk back. I can't tell them to fuck off and leave me alone.

Sydney: As a rule?

Clementine: I'd also lose the tip.

Sydney: Sounds like an occupational hazard.

Sydney: I have a friend in Los Angeles. Someone... maybe someone who can help. I can make a call for you, tell him you're a friend, so on and so forth, and we can work this thing out here. I think if you need help paying for your mother's funeral, we can work it out. I want you to see that my reasons for doing this are not selfish, only this: I'd hope that you would do the same for me.

John: I would. Thank you.

Sydney: [shakes John's hand] It's always good to meet a new friend. I'll see you later.

Father Callaway: This is gonna sound strange, but you know the doll with one eye that your daughter is holding? Well, that belonged to the little girl who lived here before you.

Kathy Lutz: Yes, it was left here.

Father Callaway: No, Mrs. Lutz, it was not left here.

Kathy Lutz: Father, what exactly are you trying to tell me?

Father Callaway: I knew the DeFeos very well. I presided over their funeral. Jodie DeFeo was buried with that doll.

Alvin MacCarron: Mr. Greenleaf also feels there was a silent promise in Dickie's letter to you which he intends to honor. He intends to transfer a good part of Dickie's income from his trust into your name. He doesn't intend on giving the Italian police any information about Dickie's past. He's rather hoping that you will feel the same.

Alvin MacCarron: I don't care for B.S. I don't care to hear it. I don't care to speak it.

Lowell Bergman: This news division has been vilified by the New York Times, in print, on television, for caving to corporate interests!

Don Hewitt: The New York Times ran a blow-by-blow of what we talked about behind closed doors! You fucked us!

Lowell Bergman: NO, YOU FUCKED YOU! Don't invert stuff! Big Tobacco tried to smear Wigand, YOU bought it. The Wall Street Journal, here: not exactly a bastion of anti-capitalist sentiment, refutes Big Tobacco's smear campaign as the lowest form of character assassination! And now, even now, when every word of what Wigand has said on our show is printed, the entire deposition of his testimony in a court of law in the State of Mississippi, the cat TOTALLY out of the bag, you're still standing here debating! Don, what the hell else do you need?

Don Hewitt: Mike, you tell him.

Mike Wallace: You fucked up, Don.

Floyd Gondolli: This is the future. Videotape tells the truth.

Jack Horner: Wait a minute. You come into my house, my party, to tell me about the future? That the future is tape, videotape, and not film? That it's amateurs and not professionals? I'm a filmmaker, which is why I will never make a movie on tape. I'll tell you something else. I will never, ever loan out any of the actors that I have under contract.

Floyd Gondolli: Wait, Jack, I'm not a complicated man. I like cinema. In particular, I like to see people fucking on film. But I don't want to win an Oscar, and I don't want to reinvent the wheel. I like simple pleasures...like butter in my ass, lollipops in my mouth. That's just me. That's just something that I enjoy. Call me crazy, call me a pervert, but there's one little thing I want to do in this life, and that is to make a dollar and a cent in this business. I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to help you stay one step ahead of the game.

Rose Gator: Why doesn't Claudia... talk to you, Jimmy?

Jimmy Gator: Why? Because we've... We both don't know. What do you mean?

Rose Gator: No, I think you know.

Jimmy Gator: Maybe... I don't.

Rose Gator: Say it, Jimmy.

Jimmy Gator: I think she thinks... that I may have... molested her. She thinks terrible things that somehow got into her head... that I may have done. She said that to me last time, when it was... ten years ago, she walked out the door. "You touched me wrong. I know that." Some crazy thought in her head.

Rose Gator: Did you ever touch her?

Jimmy Gator: I don't know.

Rose Gator: [covers her mouth in disgust] ... Jimmy!...

Jimmy Gator: I don't know. I really don't.

Rose Gator: But you can't say!

Jimmy Gator: I don't know what I've done.

Rose Gator: [angry] Yes, you do. You do! But you won't say!

Jimmy Gator: I don't know. What? Please? Please.

Rose Gator: You deserve to die alone for what you've done!

Jimmy Gator: I don't know what I've done!

Rose Gator: [beginning to cry] Yes, you do!

Jimmy Gator: Rose, if I said that I knew, would you stay?

Rose Gator: No!

Jimmy Gator: But I don't know what I've done.

Rose Gator: You should know better!

Dave Toschi: What's that?

Sherwood Morrill: Similarities in the lowercase "r"s.

Dave Toschi: And that?

Sherwood Morrill: It is you waiting in the hall if you speak again. I have to concentrate.

Dave Toschi: Sorry.

Sherwood Morrill: Sorry" counts as speaking.

Dave Toschi: There are similarities in the lowercase "r"s.