Somebody messes with me, I’m gonna mess with with him. Somebody steals from me, I’m gonna say you stole. Not talk to him for spitting on the sidewalk. Understand?
If you’re gonna screw with Terry Benedict, you’d better goddamn know. This sort of thing used to be civilized. You’d hit a guy; he’d whack you; done. But with Benedict? When it’s all over, he’d better not know you’re involved. Not know your names, or anything about you, because he’ll kill ya. And then he’ll go to work on ya.
What’s this guy supposed to be, the ultimate badass?
He’s the hero Gotham deserves, but not the one it needs right now. So we’ll hunt him. Because he can take it. Because he’s not our hero. He’s a silent guardian, a watchful protector. A dark knight.
I am not a vigilante. I am just trying to get home to my little girl’s birthday party and if everyone will just stay out of my way, nobody will get hurt.
I AM TRYING TO GET HOME TO MY TEN-YEAR-OLD SON! And now that I’m this close, you’re telling me it’s hopeless. No, no, NO, THIS IS CHRISTMAS! The season of perpetual hope! And I don’t care if I have to go out on the road and hitchhike!
If it costs me everything I own… if I have to sell my soul to the devil himself… I am going to get home to my son.
“Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven”, is that it?
Welcome to the party! It’s so nice to see you all here! I’m so proud of you. You’ve taken to sin with such minimal prompting. You’re acting as if there is no Heaven or Hell. Well, I’ve got news for you- there is most definitely a Hell and you’re all gonna go there when you die. Which is in about 15 minutes.
Come on, Morrie, you’re talking crazy, stop it!
I’m the enemy, 'cause I like to think; I like to read. I’m into freedom of speech and freedom of choice. I’m the kind of guy who likes to sit in a greasy spoon and wonder, “Gee, should I have the T-bone steak or the jumbo rack of barbecued ribs with the side order of gravy fries?” I WANT high cholesterol. I wanna eat bacon and butter and BUCKETS of cheese, okay? I want to smoke a Cuban cigar the size of Cincinnati in the non-smoking section. I want to run through the streets naked with green Jell-o all over my body reading Playboy magazine. Why? Because I suddenly might feel the need to, okay, pal?
The horror… the horror…
“The Statue of Liberty is kaput” - that’s disconcerting.
And I know it’s not fashionable to say this. We’re celebrating, everyone thinks it’s okay. But democracy carries a price tag. And I just happen to think that one of the most misguided promises we ever made was inscribed on the base of the Statue of Liberty. One that I predict will lead this country into all kinds of trouble: Give us your poor, your huddled masses… Now we have to stop this before it goes too far. Our conception of America does not include, was never meant to include, this kind of scum.
What first made us want to go to America and… “conquer” it, was being English! It wasn’t that we cared a monkey’s about the American Dream, or the American drug situation, or the dollars or any of that. It’s because we were English kids! And we wanted to go to America and be English!
Wanda, do you have any idea what it’s like being English? Being so correct all the time, being so stifled by this dread of, of doing the wrong thing, of saying to someone “Are you married?” and hearing “My wife left me this morning,” or saying, uh, “Do you have children?” and being told they all burned to death on Wednesday. You see, Wanda, we’ll all terrified of embarrassment. That’s why we’re so… dead. Most of my friends are dead, you know, we have these piles of corpses to dinner. But you’re alive, God bless you, and I want to be, I’m so fed up with all this. I want to make love with you, Wanda. I’m a good lover - at least, used to be, back in the early 14th century. Can we go to bed?
I hate being Scottish. We’re the lowest of the fucking low, the scum of the earth, the most wretched, servile, miserable, pathetic trash that was ever shat into civilization. Some people hate the English, but I don’t. They’re just wankers. We, on the other hand, are colonized by wankers. We can’t even pick a decent culture to be colonized by. We are ruled by effete arseholes. It’s a shite state of affairs and all the fresh air in the world will not make any fucking difference.
In fact, I think most Scottish cuisine is based on a dare.
You won’t accept a guy’s tongue in your mouth, but you’re going to eat that?
If I were to send you flowers where would I… no, let me rephrase that. If I were to let you suck my tongue, would you be grateful?
Where are you from? Do you swallow?