Not to go on all-Fours; that is the Law. Are we not Men?
Now, fight like apes!
King Kong can’t make a monkey out of us!
I’m about to marry a girl who’s liable to have gorillas for bridesmaids.
Look! I’m engaged! Isn’t she pretty? She asked me. She’s smart, too.
We are Smart.
I use forty-eight percent of my brain. Do you know how much you use?
It means you have a strong mental aura.
Are you out of your Vulcan mind?
I don’t know. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just not making myself clear.
1nce thi sky woz ful ov birds;used 2 go blak wif birds it did & birdz roold thi air(wel,apart from thi insectz)but thas has all changed now;hoomins came along & stard shootin & trappin & killen them & evin if they’ve mostly stoppd doin that sort ov fing now theyr stil top ov thi roost partlly coz they kild off so meny speesheez & partly coz they make stuf fly.
The Deliverator belongs to an elite order, a hallow subcategory. He’s got esprit up to here. Right now, he is preparing to carry out his third mission of the night. His uniform is black as activated charcoal, filtering the very light out of the air. A bullet will bounce off its arachnofiber weave like a wren hitting a patio door, but excess perspiration wafts through it like a breeze through a freshly napalmed forest. Where his body has bony extremities, the suit has sintered armorgel: feels like gritty jello, protects like a stack of telephone books.
As we walked along the flatblock marina, I was calm on the outside, but thinking all the time. So now it was to be Georgie the general, saying what we should do and what not to do, and Dim as his mindless greeding bulldog. But suddenly I viddied that thinking was for the gloopy ones and that the oomny ones use, like, inspiration and what Bog sends. For now it was lovely music that came to my aid. There was a window open with the stereo on and I viddied right at once what to do.
Well, I’d certainly say she had marvelous judgment, Albert, if not particularly good taste.
Precedent was held subordinate to the judgment of the man on the spot. Alas, the man on the spot was himself.
Mission Control: Buckaroo, The White House wants to know is everything ok with the alien space craft from Planet 10 or should we just go ahead and destroy Russia?
Buckaroo Banzai: Tell him yes on one and no on two.
Nuke 'em. Let’s nuke the bastards.
All right. I’d just as soon leave it for somebody else to do. If there was anybody else here to do it.
I am from a warrior race. We EXIST for battle. Our creed is to live fast, fight well, and have a beautiful ending.
“Zakalwe, in all human societies we have ever reviewed, in every age and every state, there has seldom if ever been a shortage of eager young males prepared to kill and die to preserve the security, comfort and prejudices of their elders, and what you call heroism is just an expression of this simple fact; there is never a scarcity of idiots.”