And I say to you gentlemen that this college is a failure. The trouble is we’re neglecting football for education.
I’m supposed to wear myself out for the team? What team? Nah, nah what I’m gonna do is look out for myself and I’ma get mine.
You know, in the ten years that I coached, I never met anybody who wanted to win as badly as I did. I’d do anything I had to do to increase my advantage. Anybody who tried to block the pursuit of that advantage, I’d just push 'em out of the way. Didn’t matter who they were, or what they were doing. But that was then. You have special talent, a gift. Not the school’s, not the townspeople, not the team’s, not Myra Fleener’s, not mine. It’s yours, to do with what you choose. Because that’s what I believe, I can tell you this: I don’t care if you play on the team or not.
I’m much better at video hockey.
The game is tailored specifically to each participant. Think of it as a great vacation, except you don’t go to it, it comes to you.
May the odds be ever in your favor.
Never tell me the odds.
Have fun stormin’ the castle.
We have a home here. We think it’s something worth defending.
Home to California. I’ll be sitting outside, checking out the babes on the beach. The surfing’s gonna be good.
Imagine… boys and girls sleeping on the beach side-by-side, unchaperoned. Now what kind of society is it that would allow such a thing?
I hate Paris, oh why oh why do I hate Paris?
Because my love is there… with his SLUT girlfriend.
I love Paris in the springtime.
Why don’t you go to Paris? Then you can drink “sham-pahg-nee” and eat “sham-pig-nons” and “champs ulysses”…
Today we have for appetisers: moules marinières, pâté de foie gras, Beluga caviar, eggs Benedictine, tarte de poireau — that’s leek tart — frogs’ legs Amandine, or oeufs de caille Richard Shepherd — c’est-à-dire, little quails’ eggs on a bed of puréed mushroom. It’s very delicate, very subtle.
Back home everyone said I didn’t have any talent. They might be saying the same thing over here but it sounds better in French.
Draw me like one of your French girls.
Swinging Belleville rendez-vous / Marathon dancing, doop-de-doo / Voodoo, can-can aren’t taboo / The world is strange in rendez-vous.
The foul and most foreign French!
You don’t frighten us, English pig dogs. Go and boil your bottoms, you sons of a silly person. I blow my nose at you, so-called “Arthur King,” you and all your silly English K-nig-hts.