Yeah, I was wondering why people that would never dream of laughing at a blind or a crippled man would laugh at a moron.
Oh, you English are so superior, aren’t you? Well, would you like to know what you’d be without us, the good ol’ U.S. of A. to protect you? I’ll tell you. The smallest fucking province in the Russian Empire, that’s what! So don’t call me stupid, lady. Just thank me.
We’ve got to have rules and obey them. After all, we’re not savages. We’re English! And the English are best at everything!
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers, For he today who sheds his blood with me shall be my brother, Be he ne’er so vile, this day shall gentle his condition, and gentlemen in England now abed shall think themselves acursed they were not here, and hold their manhoods cheap whilst any speaks, that fought with us upon St. Crispin’s day!
Manners maketh man.
You see, the great secret, Eliza, is not a question of good manners or bad manners, or any particular sort of manners, but having the same manner for all human souls. The question is not whether I treat you rudely, but whether you’ve ever heard me treat anyone else better.
Well, at least we’re not irretrievably vulgar.
We’ve got elegance! If you ain’t got elegance you can never ever carry it off!
A manly laugh, for manly men such as we!
We’re men / Manly men! / We’re men in tights!
They hit Buddy! Come on, girls!
Two against two. I like those odds.
As soon as the word got out the fix was in, man, the odds went through the roof.
That’s not much incentive for me to fight fair, then, is it?
“We stop the stage, the bandits are waiting for the stage, and then you show up instead of the stage.”
“That’s pretty well-staged.”
Something ought to be done about these girls that come to New York and try to go on the stage. They’d be so much better off, at home, raising families!
I can sing, and I can dance, and I’m going to New York! Should I?
You’re messing with my Zen thing, man.
The central message of Buddhism is not “Every man for himself.”
I’d fight Gandhi.