Truly, this man was the Son of God.
Jesus was my son. Buddha was my son. Mohammed. Moses. You. The man who said there was no room in the inn, was my son. And so is the one who charges eleven dollars for a steak.
I’d like to propose a toast, to my son. He is eighteen today. He has just ordered his first drink. Before he drinks it, I’d like to wish him a long life, a wife as fine as his mother, and a son as fine as he’s been. To my son!
Dad, I just need some fucking money.
Money’s out there. You pick it up, it’s yours. You don’t, I got no sympathy for you.
All I can tell you is, I wish I had a dime for every dime I had.
Mister Hart, here is a dime. Take it, call your mother, and tell her there is serious doubt about you ever becoming a lawyer
“Le Petomane Through Way”? Now what’ll that asshole think of next? Has anybody got a dime? (cowboys grumble)
Somebody’s gotta go back and get a shitload of dimes!
A mark, a yen, a buck or a pound
A buck or a pound
A buck or a pound
Is all that makes the world go around
Let’s start with the obvious. Money. I got some; you don’t, I gather. So, that’s a point for me.
Sounds like the basis of a firm friendship.
Alone, bad. Friend, good.
Wait! Where are you going? I was going to make espresso.
Lots of cream, lots of sugar
Jessica’s the light of my life! The apple of my eye! The cream in my coffee!
Let’s Scare Jessica To Death
If you’re good at something, never do it for free
She could talk her way out of a sunburn.
You wouldn’t be talkin’ about me, would ya, loverboy?
If you want me to stop saying it, I will. But you’re gonna have to stop being so damn beguiling!