- I have a good job, a lovely apartment, I go out with very nice men to the best places; the theatre, finest restaurants… [exasperated]What am I missing? [
- [chuckling ] When you have to ask, believe me, you’re missin’ it.
Did I mention my leg is forty-four inches from hip to toe? So, basically, we are talking about eighty-eight inches of therapy wrapped around you for the bargain price of three thousand dollars.
It’s only five miles. Just a good stretch of the legs.
But our last lap… we clocked 218 miles an hour down the Mulsanne Straight. Now, in all his years of racing… old Enzo ain’t never seen anything move that fast. And now he knows, without a doubt, we’re faster than he is. Even with the wrong driver… and all the committees. And that’s what he’s thinking about while he’s sitting in Modena, Italy, right now. That man is scared to death.
Would you say that in Paris, among smart people, the Rolls-Royce or the Cadillac is considered more chic?
Oh, but not all the love stories of France begin in Paris. Oh, no, no, no, no. There was one, for example, a quite unusual one that began in the hot sun-drenched region in the south of France in the province known as Provence.
For fifty weeks of the year, Fort Lauderdale, Florida is a small corner of tropical heaven, basking contentedly in the warm sun. During the other two weeks, as colleges all over the country disgorge their students for Easter vacation, a change comes over the scene. The students swarm to these peaceful shores in droves, twenty thousand strong. They turn night into day, and a small corner of heaven into a sizeable chunk of bedlam. The boys come to soak up the sun, and a few carloads of beer. The girls come, very simply, because this is where the boys are.
- Oh boys! Look what I got here!
- Where’re the white women at?
Well, ain’t no call for a boys band in this town. Anything these Iowa people don’t have already, they do without.
I totally screwed up. I told the kids that if they practiced, they’d get into the Battle of the Bands
While I agree that in time our band will be most triumphant, the truth is Wyld Stallyns will never be a super band until we have Eddie Van Halen on guitar.
We’re Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
We hope you will enjoy the show
His heart was strong enough to survive the grave.
I know the name of the cemetery now, and you know the name of the grave.
You son of a bitch! You moved the cemetery, but you left the bodies, didn’t you? You son of a bitch, you left the bodies and you only moved the headstones! You only moved the headstones! WHY? WHY?
The person you put up there ain’t the person that comes back. It may look like that person, but it ain’t that person. 'Cause… whatever lives in the ground beyond the Pet Sematary ain’t human at all.
I must go to the cemetery. It’s my birthday.
- Hey, Crush. Crush, I forgot. How old are you?
- 150, dude! And still young. Rock on!
Give it a bit more rock and roll.
I pledge allegiance — to the band — of Mr. Schneebly — and will not fight him — for creative control — and will defer to him on all issues related to the musical direction of the band.