As they say in the mother country, let us eat and then spit on political dissidents!

I used to have a temper. Now I have a passion for justice.

And then Laszlo got that look in this eyes, the one that said we had to get out, get into a cab, and get back to our headquarters. He pled pressing business to Wissler, who very much wanted to talk further, and promised to return for another visit soon. Then he bolted for the door, leaving me to apologize more fully for the abrupt departure — which, not surprisingly, Wissler didn’t seem to mind at all. Scientists’ minds may jump around like amorous toads, but they do seem to accept such behavior in one another.

It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him. Dragons may not have much real use for all their wealth, but they know it to an ounce as a rule, especially after long possession; and Smaug was no exception…

He stirred and stretched forth his neck to sniff. Then he missed the cup!

Thieves! Fire! Murder! Such a thing had not happened since first he came to the Mountain! His rage passes description – the sort of rage that is only seen when rich folk that have more than they can enjoy suddenly lose something that they have long had but have never before used or wanted…

God put me on this earth to accomplish a certain number of things. Right now I am so far behind that I will never die.

There are more fools in the world than there are people.

Familiarity breeds attempt.

Time wounds all heels.

I went down on the Lower East Side today and saw all those Old Testament houses.

We’re all cremated equal.

We’re insufferable friends.

I’ve been working my head to the bone.

Frankly, I’d like to see the government get ouf of war altogether and leave the whole field to private industry.

For every complex problem, there is a solution that is simple, neat, and wrong.

If you hear that something might be about to happen, call a press conference and demand it!

Say you’re here [at a movie premeire] and you get word that your mother died, you know like hit by a bus or something…You go downstairs; you shed a tear, and say, “It’s a shame…she would have loved this movie.”

Andrew Sullivan is a self-made man who loves his creator.

The cook was a good cook, as cooks go; and as cooks go, she went.

The fickleness of the women I love is only equalled by the infernal constancy of the women who love me.

What we’re aiming for, says Aunt Lydia, is a spirit of camaraderie among women.  We must all pull together.

Camaraderie, shit, says Moira through the hole in the toilet cubicle.  Right fucking on, Aunt Lydia, as they used to say.  How much do you want to bet she’s got Janine down on her knees?  What you think they get up to in that office of hers?  I bet she’s got her working away on that dried-up old withered–.

Moira! I say.

Moira what?  she whispers.  You know you’ve thought it.

It doesn’t do any good to talk like that, I say, feeling nevertheless the impulse to giggle.  But I still pretended to myself, then that we should try to preserve something resembling dignity.

You were always such a wimp, Moira says, but with affection.  It does so do good.  It does.

And she’s right, I know that now, as I kneel on this undeniably hard floor, listening to the ceremony dron one.  There is something powerful in the whispering of obscenities, about those in power.  There’s something delightful about it, something naughty, secretive, forbidden, thrilling.  It’s like a spell, of sorts.  It deflates them, reduces them to the common denominator where they can be dealt with.  In the paint of the washroom cubicle someone unknown had scratched: Aunt Lydia sucks.  It was like a flag waved from a hilltop in rebellion.  There mere idea of Aunt Lydia doing such a thing was in itself heartening.

So now I imagine, among these Angels and their drained white brides, momentous grunts and sweating, damp furry encounters; or, better, ignominious failures, cocks like three-week-old carrots, anguished fumblings upon flesh cold and unresponding as uncooked fish.

[Bill Clinton] clutched his throbbing manhood. Monica said, “I can see why they call you a New Democrat. You lean to the right.”

She’d ask Abbot to give her Costello.

ROB REINER: If those were the only people speaking at this convention, I would agree, that would be — but as we say, the Democratic Party has a very large tent. We are the party of inclusion. I mean, when we hold a convention, it’s not like a Utah Jazz basketball game, where there’s a lot of black people on the floor and white people in the stands. We do actually have inclusion. We have a Southern Baptist and a northeastern Jew, and we really are — I mean, I was concerned when I saw them talking about diversity, like the Republicans were talking about the party of diversity and the party of inclusion, I mean, how do they define diversity? Having two guys to head the ticket from two different oil companies? Is that the definition of diversity?

MARY MATALIN: You’ve been practicing your lines, Rob.

Either you’re extremely smart or extremely stupid.

Pam: Sex with you is a Kafka-esque experience.

Alvy Singer: Oh. Thank you.

Pam: I mean that as a compliment.

This here is Bonnie Parker and I’m Clyde Barrow. We…uh…rob banks.

That’s all television is my dear: nothing but auditions.

Daphne: Oh, come on now, Dr. Crane. It’s not like men have never used sex to get what they want.”

Frasier: How can we possibly use sex to get what we want? Sex is what we want.