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What is your favorite Movie Line? (Merged)

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williamshatner2.gif
Best pic I could drum up...

Shatner in Airplane 2:

"Striker? Ted Striker? Never heard of him. That's not entirely true. We were like brothers."
 
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I am the master of the C.L.I.T. Remember this fucking face. Whenever you see C.L.I.T., you'll see this fucking face. I make that shit work. It does whatever the fuck I tell it to. No one rules the C.L.I.T like me. Not this little fuck, none of you little fucks out there. I AM THE C.L.I.T. COMMANDER! Remember that, commander of all C.L.I.T.s! When it comes down to business, this is what I do. I pinch it like this. OOH you little fuck. Then I rub my nose with it
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- Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back

Farva: I'll just take a liter cola.
Burger Kid: Liter cola? Do we sell liter cola?
Burger Kid: What's a liter cola?
Farva: Liter is French for give me my fucking cola.
Click to expand...
-Super Troopers
 
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"On day some kids from the neighborhood carried my mother's groceries home from the store. You want to know why? It was out of respect."
 
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Val Kilmer has many great little one-liners in Tombstone, here are some of the best.

"Cowboy: Oh, so the drunk piano player. You're so drunk...infact, you're probably seeing double.
"Doc: Well, I've got two guns...one for each of you."

" In vino veritas. Age quod agis. Credat Judaeus Apella, non ego. Iuventus stultorum magister. In pace requiescat That's Latin, darlin'! It appears Mr. Ringo is an educated man. Now I really hate him!"

"Where's Wyatt? Down by the creek walkin on the water"

Wyatt: "How we feeling today, Doc?"
Doc: "I'm dying. How about you?"
 
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1-I have a photographic memory, I never forget a thing.
2-Good that will be helpful in the case then.
1-Anything I can do to help.
2-Thats a nice sculpture, who is it?Napoloen?
1-No, no its Bonaparte.
2-Oh okay,who was the sculptor?
1-oh i cant remember, I'm terrible with names.
2- I thought you said you had a photographic memory? (awkward silence)
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Jack Butler: Wanna beer?
Ron Richardson: It's 7 o'clock in the morning.
Jack Butler: Scotch?
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"Six bucks and my right nut say we're not landing in Chicago."
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You're no saint, you get a free cab you get a free room, and someone who'll listen to you're boring stories. Didnt you notice on the plane, when you started talking, eventually i started reading the vomit bag. Didnt that give you some sort of clue, like this guys not enjoying it.You say things which are not funny or mildly amusing or interesting, you're a miricle. Your stories have none of that, there not even amusing accidentally. Hey honey i like you to meet Dale Griffith shower curtain ring guy hes got got some amusing anicdotes for you, oh here is a gun so you'll blow you're brains out you'll thank me for it later. its like going on a date with a chatty cathy doll, only you pull your own sting out and,BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH.You know next time you tell one of you're stories, here's a good idea have a point it makes it so much more interesting for the listener.
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Del: You play with your balls alot.
Neal: Oh really?
Del: Yeah, you do more ballhandling in one minute than Larry Bird does in an hour.
Neal: You know what I'd really like?
Del: A couple of more hands and an extra set of balls?
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-Welcome to Marathon, may I help you?
-Yes.
-Well, How may I help you?
-You can start by wiping that fucking dumb-ass smile off your rosy fucking cheeks. And you can give a fucking automobile. A fucking Buick, a fucking Datson, a fucking Toyota . . four fucking wheels and a seat!
-I really don't care for the way you're speaking to me.
-And I don't really care for the way your company left me in the middle of fucking nowhere with fucking keys to a fucking car that isn't fucking there. And I really don't care to walk across a fucking highway and across a fucking runway just to get back here and have you smile at my fucking face. I want a fucking car, right, fucking, now.
-May I see your rental agreement?
-I threw it away.
-Oh boy.
-OH BOY WHAT...
-YOU'RE FUCKED!
 
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Will: Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but I'll give it a shot. Say I'm working at N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. So I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, 'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never had a problem with get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Send in the marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number was called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some guy from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes home to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile my buddy from Southie realizes the only reason he was over there was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the skirmish to scare up oil prices so they could turn a quick buck. A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. And naturally they're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's got to walk to the job interviews, which sucks 'cause the shrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starvin' 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what do I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. Why not just shoot my buddy, take his job and give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president.

-Good Will Hunting-
 
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