Robert DuvallQuotes

Gen. Robert E. Lee: [after Jackson's wounding] He's lost his left arm...I've lost my right.

Gen. Robert E. Lee: [to artillerist E. Porter Alexander, at Fredericksburg] Colonel Alexander, Federal troops amassed across that river are watching us prepare for them. If I were General Burnside, I would not attack here. I'd move back upstream, come across from above us. But Burnside is not a man with the luxury of flexibility. He's being pushed from behind by loud voices in Washington, by newspapers who demand quick action. No, we're here, and so he will attack us here.

Gen. Robert E. Lee: It is well that war is so terrible, or we should grow too fond of it.

Jerome Facher: [''to law students''] Now, the single greatest liability a lawyer can have is pride. Pride... Pride has lost more cases than lousy evidence, idiot witnesses and a hanging judge all put together. There is absolutely no place in a courtroom for pride.

Walter: If I'm gonna live here, there's gonna be some conditions.

Hub: Conditions?

Walter: No more dangerous stuff. No more fighting teenagers. No airplanes. More vegetables, less meat.

Hub: [''Incredulous''] What do you expect us to die of? Old age?

Garth: Well... welcome home.

Hub: Damn. She doesn't deserve that kid. Maybe we'll get a lawyer.

Garth: No judge is gonna take a kid away from his mother, give im to two old bachelor uncles.

Hub: Well, maybe she'll sell im to us. How much money we got?

Garth: Hub- there's nothin we can do. He's gone.

Garth: Howdy, Stan.

Hub: You know, you're lucky, Stan. Lucky the lion got to you before *we* did.

Garth: Looks like he's going to need stitches.

Hub: Yeah, a lot of damn stitches.

Walter: What happened to her?

Garth: Looks like her heart gave out in all the excitement.

Walter: Look. I think she's smiling.

Garth: Yeah, I guess she died happy.

Hub: She died with her boots on, that's the main thing.

Garth: Protecting her cub.

Walter: She was a real lion, wasn't she? There at the end. A real jungle lion. A real Africa lion.

Walter: So can I keep him? I'll look after him and take care of him and feed him and everything! I never had a pet of my very own before.

Hub: So kid, you want to take care of it, nurse it back to health?

Hub: Good. Then we shoot it.

Garth: That's some lion you bought.

Hub: That's some garden seeds you bought.

Walter: Don't worry, they're not as bad as they seem right at first.

Salesman: Don't shoot! Don't shoot!

Garth: He's been here before! This is no ordinary salesman.

Salesman: Brothers McCann?

Hub: Hell, I like me a challenge.

Salesman: Can we talk?

Hub: Come out where we can see you!

Salesman: Put down your guns and I'll come out!

Garth: [''Grins''] This guy is good.

Hub: [Walter tugs at his arm] I'll cover him- you sneak around. What're you-what? What?

Walter: Why not see what he's sellin'?

Salesman: Let me just show it to you!

Hub: What the hell for?

Salesman: It's right behind my car!

Walter: Well, what's the good of having all that money if you're never gonna spend it?

Salesman: Trust me!

Garth: Could be the kid has a point.

Hub: Well. We'll see what the man's sellin'. Then we'll shoot im.

Garth: Good plan.

Hub: See, this here is exactly what I've been talkin bout. Ever since this kid was suckin on his momma's titty he's been shown everything but discipline. And now his idea of courage is ridin around botherin folks too good-natured to put a stop to it.

Hood 1: Hey, who do you think you are, huh?

Garth: Just a dumb kid, Hub. Don't kill him.

Hub: [''to Garth''] Right.

Hub: [''Throws Hood 1 at the other teenagers.''] I'm Hub McCann. I've fought in two World Wars and countless smaller ones on three continents. I led thousands of men into battle with everything from horses and swords to artillery and TANKS! I've seen the headwaters of the Nile, and tribes of natives no white man had ever seen before. I've won and lost a dozen fortunes, KILLED MANY MEN! And loved only one woman, with a passion a FLEA like you could never begin to understand. That's who I am. NOW, GO HOME, BOY!

Hood 1: Let's show this old bastard who's tough! Get out your knives!

Garth: [the thugs immediately drop their switchblades] Now, boys, you're fixin to let those teenage hormones get you into a world of trouble.

Hub: Damn it, Garth, did I ask you to butt in?

Garth: Hub, you've just come out the hospital.

Hub: There's only four of em.

Garth: Well, look, look. You fight this one first, then I'll let you fight the other three after, okay?

Hub: [''To Walter''] Yeah! Watch this, kid.

Garth: [''To Hood 1''] Now, you- you better pick that knife up. Cause, son, you're gonna need all the help you can get.

Ralph: Hub, I don't see why you have to drive, it's my car!

Hub: Quit whinin'.

Ralph: We find that kid he's gonna get a piece of my mind.

Garth: There he is.

Hub: Lawyer! Stay in the car!

Garth: Hub, come on.

Hub: [hesitant] No, not me. You-

Garth: [Garth and Hub go over and sit beside Walter] Hub. Get out of the car. Planning your next move? Where you goin'?

Walter: Here. Area code 406, Montana.

Garth: How come you're not headin to Fort Worth, where your mum is?

Walter: She's not there. She lied. Again.

Garth: Listen, kid, we know you got your heart set on goin to Montana, but... it's late. Hub, help me out here.

Hub: Why? Sounds like his mind's made up. Good luck in Montana, kid.

Garth: We got better maps than that one at the house, right Hub?

Hub: Yeah, man needs a good map, that's for sure.

Walter: I've been to the orphan home before. I don't wanna go back.

Hub: [Garth gives him another look] Damn it, kid. It ain't our fault you got a lousy damn mother.

Walter: I guess I should get going. Which way is North?

Hub: I'll say one thing for this kid, he sure pisses off the relatives!

Garth: Listen, kid, do us a favor. If you come back to the house and stay awhile... Why, our relatives are going to hate it. I bet they hate it so much, they go away and leave us all the hell alone.

Hub: It's crazy enough, it just might work.

Garth: Come on, kid. Help us out here.

Garth: He's runnin for it!

Hub: I got im!

Garth: Damn. Empty!

Hub: Get ammo; I'll keep him covered!

Mae: Yoo-hoo!

Garth: Huh?

Hub: You send for a hooker?

Mae: Uncle Hub, Uncle Garth- it's me, Mae!

Mae: Mae! Pearl's daughter! And I brought Walter, your nephew!

Garth: Relatives.

Hub: [Groans] Damn.

Doc: [[brain; [hand; [mystery; [tested; [w:Astrocytoma|astrocytoma; [light] Let's see, uh... George... George... there's a tumor in your ], that's spread out like a ], threads of it, you know, everywhere. But instead of dysfunction — now here's the ], George. Instead of destroying brain function, so far it's been stimulating it. We can't understand that. You have more area of active brain use than anybody ever ] — ever — because of those tentacles. I mean, we've seen tumors like this before, it's called ]. And it explains, uh, the dizziness, and... the illusion of ]. But the way it's in there, waking up areas of the brain, it's a... big mystery. So...

George: And it's killing me.

Doc: [fuming off at his and George Malley's common friends belittling George's abilities; [afraid; pauses; [people; [sleep; [world; pause; calms down, in soft voice; [Hell; leaves the bar] Why do ya have to tear him down? What are you so ] of? What have you got to lose? He wasn't selling anything! He didn't want anything from anybody! He wanted nothing from nobody! Nothing! NOTHING!!! And you ] have to tear him down so you can ] better tonight! So ya can prove that the ] is flat and sleep better toniight! Am I right?... I'm right... The ] with all of ya. The Hell with everyone of ya.

Max Mercy: You read my mind.

Roy Hobbs: That takes all of three seconds.

Sergeant Prendergast: Now let's go meet some nice policemen. They're good guys. Come on, let's go.

Bill Foster: I'm the bad guy?

Prendergast: Yeah.

Bill Foster: How did that happen? I did everything they told me to.

Tim Daland: [Walks to tractor] See you're enjoying the good life, Harry?

Harry Hogge: Yeah. Well I don't mind spreadin a little fertilizer round now and then. There's worse things.

Tim Daland: How's the truck runnin'?

Harry Hogge: Runs good.

Tim Daland: [pause] I... uh... I want you to build me a car.

Harry Hogge: [stops tractor] Now, Tim, everyone knows some downtown car dealer can't afford a race team. And no driver worth a damn is gonna sign with you. Cause they wreck one car, you can't afford to build them another, and their out of the deal, you know. And no car's gonna win without a driver, not even mine.

Tim Daland: [points to Harry] If you built the car, I'd get a damn driver.

Harry Hogge: [starts driving tractor] What kinda driver you gonna find after the season's started? Some ole boy that's washed up, and wasn't worth a shit to begin with.

Tim Daland: You can work with him. You can build a driver like you build a car, Harry.

Harry Hogge: [points to dog] Tim, take a look at that hound. Now that's the best coon dog I ever seen or heard about, and I didn't teach him a damn thing.

Tim Daland: Well I got somebody.

Harry Hogge: Who?

Tim Daland: Take a look at him.

Harry Hogge: Anybody I gotta take a look at ain't somebody.

Tim Daland: Then take a look at nobody.

Harry Hogge: [stops tractor] Tim, I give up racin', you gotta know that.

Tim Daland: Ah, you didn't give up racin', Harry. You quit to avoid investigation into Buddy's crash at Daytona.

Harry Hogge: Hey, I didn't avoid any God-damn investigation.

Tim Daland: [rolls eyes] Well, anyway, I... uh... I talked to NASCAR and if you come back in there won't be any investigation.

Harry Hogge: How they hell you sell em on that deal?

Tim Daland: I'm a helluva salesman.

Tim Daland: What's wrong with him?

Harry Hogge: I'll tell you what wrong with this deal is you, Tim. You're a victim of your own god-damn creation! Two race teams? That's one too many roosters in the henhouse.

Tim Daland: It doesn't seem to bother Russ Wheeler.

Harry Hogge: Oh, no, no, ever since that Daytona crash Cole's been called a troublemaker. Wheeler figures he can bump and bam Cole all he wants.

Tim Daland: I don't see Russ doing anything like that. NASCAR doesn't see Russ doing anything like that.

Harry Hogge: Oh I guess it ain't happening then under the watchful eyes of experts like you and NASCAR!

Tim Daland: I'll tell you what is happening—Cole's not running good, he's not looking good and now he's got sponsor trouble!

Harry Hogge: But you don't, is that it?

Tim Daland: As far is that goes, no, I don't, but I want to keep the sponsor and Cole, he's the one that made this happen and I haven't forgotten that, Harry.

Harry Hogge: Right, right.

Harry Hogge: All right. While we're still under a caution, I want you to go back out on that track and hit the pace car.

Cole Trickle: Hit the pace car?

Harry Hogge: Hit the pace car!

Cole Trickle: What for?

Harry Hogge: Because you've hit every other goddamned thing out there, I want you to be perfect!

Harry Hogge: Cole, you're wandering all over the track!

Cole Trickle: Well, this son of a bitch just slammed into me!

Harry Hogge: [Cole slams into the wall side-ways; Cole slams into another car; Cole slams into other cars and causes a multi-car crash; Harry just shakes his head in disbelief and face-palms] No, no, he didn't bump you, he didn't nudge you, he didn't slam into you, he RUBBED you. And rubbin', son, is racin'. Oh, there goes a fender. There goes a quarter-panel.

Harry Hogge: What do you know about stock car racing?

Cole Trickle: Well... watched it on television, of course.

Harry Hogge: You've seen it on television?

Cole Trickle: ESPN. The coverage is excellent, you'd be surprised at how much you can pick up.

Harry Hogge: I'm sure I would.

Harry Hogge: Now, Cole, when you shift the gear and that little needle on the tach goes into the red and reads 9000 RPMs, that's bad.

Harry Hogge: Drivers can't stand to be reminded of what can happen to em in a racecar. They, they don't go to hospitals, they don't go to funerals. You get a driver to a funeral before he's actually dead, you've made history, darlin'.

Harry Hogge: Tim, take a look at that hound. That's the best coon-dog I ever seen or heard about and I didn't teach him a damn thing.

Harry Hogge: [slaps a ruined tire; slaps a lightly worn tire] His way... my way... I was six seconds faster.

Harry Hogge: No, no, he didn't slam you, he didn't bump you, he didn't nudge you... he rubbed you. And rubbin, son, is racin'.

Harry Hogge: [talking to "his" race-car] I'm settin you up for cool weather... but if that sun breaks, after you're out on the track, you're liable to run real loose real quick. Now I don't wanna worry you or nothin, but, Cole's not ready for that... he's changed, see, he's changed. You cannot get out of control and expect him to bring you right back. He's liable to hurt you, you're liable to hurt him, and... I couldn't handle that, so, ah, you've gotta take care of him... see... you gotta take care of him.

Harry Hogge: [talking to a race-car chassis] I'm gonna give you an engine, low to the ground... extra thick oil pan that'll cut the wind from underneath ya, see. It'll give you thirty or forty more horsepower. I'm gonna give you a fuel line that'll hold an extra gallon of gas. I'm gonna shave half an inch off you and shape you like a bullet. I'll get you primed, painted and weighed, and you'll be ready to go out on that racetrack. You hear me? You're gonna be perfect.

Mark Avery: Hey Buck, remember when we beat you at the championship game?

Buck Weston: [kicks him into the swimming pool] Oh yeah, well remember the time when I shoved that kid into the pool?

Janice Weston: Hi, you guys!

Barbara Weston: [hugs Janice; she kisses him] Hi! Hi, Buck.

Buck Weston: Hey, look who's here! Two of favorite people and Phil!

Phil Weston: Very funny, Dad. I've never heard that one before.

Buck Weston: You know it hasn't been easy for me since your mom died.

Phil Weston: She didn't die, she divorced you.

Buck Weston: Ehh... tomatoes, tomahtoes.

Phil Weston: I was born a baby, a blank slate, thinking I was in control of my own destiny. And then I met my father.

Buck Weston: [offscreen] You better be good at this stuff.

Max Schumacher: He could be jumping off a roof for all I know. The man is insane. He's not responsible for himself. He needs care and treatment. And all you grave-robbers think about is that he's a hit!

Diana Christensen: You know, Max, it's just possible that he isn't insane, that he is, in fact, imbued with some special spirit.

Max Schumacher: My God, I'm supposed to be the romantic. You're supposed to be the hard-bitten realist.

Diana Christensen: All right. Howard Beale obviously fills a void. The audience out there obviously wants a prophet, even a manufactured one, even if he's as mad as Moses. By tomorrow, he'll have a 50 share, maybe even a 60. Howard Beale is processed instant God, and right now, it looks like he may just go over bigger than Mary Tyler Moore.

Max Schumacher: I am not putting Howard back on the air.

Diana Christensen: It's not your show any more, Max, it's mine.

Frank Hackett: I gave her the show, Schumacher. I'm putting the network news show under programming. Mr. Ruddy has had a mild heart attack and is not taking calls. In his absence, I'm making all network decisions, including one I've been wanting to make a long time - you're fired.

Nelson Chaney: All I know is that this violates every canon of respectable broadcasting.

Frank Hackett: We're not a respectable network. We're a whorehouse network, and we have to take whatever we can get.

Nelson Chaney: Well, I don't want any part of it. I don't fancy myself the president of a whorehouse.

Frank Hackett: That's very commendable of you, Nelson. Now sit down. Your indignation is duly noted; you can always resign tomorrow.

Diana Christensen: We just increased our audience by twenty or thirty million people in one night. Now, you're not gonna get something like this dumped in your lap for the rest of your days, and you can't just piss it away. Howard Beale got up there last night and said what every American feels, that he's tired of all the bullshit. He's articulating the popular rage. I want that show, Frank. I can turn that show into the biggest smash on television.

Frank Hackett: What do you mean, you want that show? It's a news show. It's not your department.

Diana Christensen: I see Howard Beale as a latter-day prophet, a magnificent messianic figure, inveighing against the hypocrisies of our times, a strip Savonarola, Monday through Friday. I tell you, Frank, that could just go through the roof. And I'm talking about a six dollar cost per thousand show! I'm talking about a hundred, a hundred thirty thousand dollar minutes! Do you want to figure out the revenues of a strip show that sells for a hundred thousand bucks a minute? One show like that could pull this whole network right out of the hole! Now, Frank, it's being handed to us on a plate. Let's not blow it!

Frank Hackett: The business of management is management.

Tom Hagen: When a plot against the emperor failed, the plotters were always given a chance to let their families keep their fortunes. Right?

Frank Pentangeli: Yeah, but only the rich guys, Tom. The little guys got knocked off and all their estates went to the emperors — unless they went home and killed themselves. [realizing] Then nothing happened, and the families — the families were taken care of.

Tom Hagen: That was a good break. A nice deal.

Frank Pentangeli: Yeah. They went home and sat in a hot bath, opened up their veins and bled to death, and sometimes they had a little party before they did it.

Michael Corleone: Where does it say that you can't kill a cop?

Tom Hagen: Come on, Mikey...

Michael Corleone: Tom, wait a minute. I'm talking about a cop that's mixed up in drugs. I'm talking about a - a - a dishonest cop - a crooked cop who got mixed up in the rackets and got what was coming to him. That's a terrific story. And we have newspaper people on the payroll, don't we, Tom? And they might like a story like that.

Tom Hagen: [Tom nods] They might, they just might.

Michael Corleone: [to Sonny] It's not personal, Sonny. It's strictly business.