Why am I here? Because I just came down with a serious case of inadequacy.
I used to think you were a swell guy. Well, to be honest, I thought you were an imbecile. But then I figured out you were a swell guy. A little slow, maybe, but a swell guy. Well, maybe you’re not so slow, but you’re not so swell either. And it looks like you’re an imbecile after all!
If you’re as guilty, as I think you are, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!
You… you imbecile. You bloated idiot. You stupid fat-head you.
Don’t talk to me like that, assface. I don’t work for you yet.
Then it’s straight to the orphanage with you! You’ll learn a thing or two there. I certainly did. How to follow orders, how to keep to yourself.
Look at him. What a shame it is. With his face he could pick old ladies’ pockets in church. His face could be a fortune to us.
Doctors… Lawyers… never get past 60 thousand rupees. He’s won 10 million. What the hell can a slumdog possibly know?
They gave you the answers… they gave YOU the answers?
Do you know why the number two hundred is so vitally descriptive to both you and me? It’s your weight and my I.Q.
There are patterns in everything. The color in light, the reflections in water… in math, these patterns reveal themselves in the most incredible form. It’s quite beautiful.
Clarice, doesn’t this random scattering of sites seem desperately random – like the elaborations of a bad liar?
I showed the green glass thing to mom. She thought it was a paperweight. Maybe other people don’t see what we see.
Oh, and is there any question as to why that is? Let’s explore that, shall we?
I’m sorry, I was all the way over here. I couldn’t hear you. Did you say you were a fast cook? That’s it? Are we to believe that boiling water soaks into a grit faster in your kitchen than on any place on the face of the earth? Well, perhaps the laws of physics cease to exist on your stove! Were these magic grits? I mean, did you buy them from the same guy who sold Jack his beanstalk beans?
Secret’s in the sauce.
They all lacked that one thing… that makes McDonald’s special.
Carl’s Jr.: Fuck You, I’m Eating.
Go 'way! 'Bating!
Doesn’t anyone fucking knock any more?