You know how Americans are, Kiki. They all love to travel, and then they only want to meet other Americans and talk about how hard it is to get a decent hamburger.
This is Paris, and I’m an American who lives here. My name is Jerry Mulligan, and I’m an ex G.I. In 1945 when the army told me to find my own job, I stayed on. And I’ll tell you why: I’m a painter, and all my life that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.
As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster.
Oh, men. I never yet met one of them that didn’t have the instincts of a heel. Sometimes I wish I could get along without them.
Why am I doing this? Because I’m a villain. It’s pure and simple.
Call me Mr. Lamb Fries!
You strike me as smart. Which brings me to my next point that you should, uh, pay attention to. I don’t want you to be guilty. So, Mr. Duncan; take a breath, start again, let’s have a conversation that makes you not guilty.
I think this whole thing stinks. I think Claus von Bulow stinks. He’s obviously guilty of something pretty despicable. And if we free him, we become partners in his crime, accessories after the fact. I’m shocked, with your record defending the poor and oppressed, that you’ve taken this case. I won’t have anything to do with it, and I hope my fellow students won’t, either. Goodbye.
If you want justice, go to a whorehouse. If you wanna get fucked, go to court.
That doesn’t interest me Doctor and frankly, it’s, it’s the sort of thing that Miggs would say.
This reminds me of my father’s last words: “DON’T, SON! THAT GUN IS LOADED!”
Have you noticed anything different about him?
It’s one thing to want to change the way people live; but you want to change how they think, how they feel. Either way, it’s dangerous. It’s against Rome. It’s against the way the world is. And killing or loving, it’s all the same. It simply doesn’t matter how you want to change things – we don’t want them changed.
That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.
Pride is an abomination. One must forego the self to obtain total spiritual creaminess, and avoid the chewy chunks of degradation.
What are you a wizard? A genius? Why didn’t you tell me that before?
A wizard is never late. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.
And at precisely 1:21 a.m. and zero seconds, we shall catch up with him and the time machine.
Are you telling me that you built a time machine… out of a DeLorean?
It must be some kind of hot tub time machine…