All stories, even the ones we love, must eventually come to an end and when they do, it’s only an opportunity for another story to begin.
— Eric Applebaum, the Hat Collector
I conduct myself as if I’m above matters of the heart, chiefly because I have seen them corrode people I respect. But in my candid moments, I sometimes wonder if I take the stance I do because love, for lack of a better word, is a game I fail to understand, so I opt not to play.
— Sherlock Holmes, Elementary, episode “The Diabolical Kind”
Heh, come over here, kid, learn something. You never know, you might have to cook for 20 guys someday. You see, you start out with a little bit of oil. Then you fry some garlic. Then you throw in some tomatoes, tomato paste, you fry it; ya make sure it doesn’t stick. You get it to a boil; you shove in all your sausage and your meatballs; heh?… And a little bit o’ wine. An’ a little bit o’ sugar, and that’s my trick.
— Peter Clemenza, The Godfather
No pleasure, no rapture, no exquisite sin greater…than Central Air.
— Azrael, Dogma
So you see, my son, there is a very fine line between love and nausea.
— King Jaffe Joffer, Coming to America
It was a cold and rainy day in March. I went to Kristoff’s where I usually get my hair done but Kristoff wasn’t there. He had mysteriously disappeared. In his place was a stranger named Rinaldo. I’ll never forget him. His eyes were steely gray. His hands were like ice. He said, “I’ll streak your hair and I’ll give you a body wave.” He worked very fast and then, as he turned my chair around to face the mirror, I saw it. He permed me!
— Phyllis, Troop Beverly Hills
Thanks for dinner. I’ve never seen potatoes cooked like that before.
— Jonah Baldwin, Sleepless in Seattle
Hey! If any of you are looking for any last-minute gift ideas for me, I have one. I’d like Frank Shirley, my boss, right here tonight. I want him brought from his happy holiday slumber over there on Melody Lane with all the other rich people and I want him brought right here, with a big ribbon on his head, and I want to look him straight in the eye and I want to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where’s the Tylenol?
— Clark Griswold, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation