Gentlemen, you can’t fight in here! This is the war room!
I guess I can only make you believe the things you want to be true.
I do believe in spooks! I do believe in spooks! I do, I do, I do, I do!
I believe that whatever doesn’t kill you simply makes you…stranger.
I could fall in love with the proper stranger.
You’d better watch out, McPherson, or you’ll finish up in a psychiatric ward. I doubt they’ve ever had a patient who fell in love with a corpse.
Telephone call? Telephone call? That’s communication with the outside world. Doctor’s discretion. Nuh-uh. Look, hey - all of these nuts could just make phone calls, they could spread insanity, oozing through telephone cables, oozing into the ears of all these poor sane people, infecting them! Wackos everywhere, plague of madness!
Hello, hello, hello! What a wonderful word, “hello”.
ill, this is sergeant Sacker. Listen to me. We’ve traced the call… it’s coming from inside the house.
…seven days…
In just seven days I can make you a man!
I’ve got to make you men strong. Because tonight, we’re going to march the platoon off a 3,000 foot cliff. Dying makes a man out of you. I died in the war, they cremated me. And they buried the ashes, right here in my skull.
I’m gonna give you three seconds; exactly three fucking seconds; to wipe that stupid looking grin off your face or I will gouge out your eyeballs and skull-fuck you!
If you ever say another word about me or make another indecent proposal, I’m gonna get that gun of mine. And I’m gonna change you from a rooster to a hen with one shot!
You think you’ve been getting away with it all this time, standing by. Well, son… your bystanding days are over!
I never knew my birth parents. There was a car accident. My birth mother was incinerated, and I only survived because her smoking carcass had formed a protective cocoon of slaughtered human effluence. A Belgian man and his fifteen year-old love slave were looting the accident scene, and came across a blood soaked baby, moi. They raised me to be evil. You know, that old chestnut.
Only the doer can be hurt by a mean or evil act.
Let him go, or I’ll do Gordon.
Why so serious?
Well, Mother Gue never raised such a foolish child!