Nancy, Age 11:
They won't let me testify. I told the cops that you saved my life and they just acted like I was crazy. They talked my parents into keeping me away. They said that you done things that you didn't do. I told them that you saved me from that Roark creep, but they won't even check me out to see if I'm still a virgin. I'm still a virgin, still alive... thanks to you. They got it all backwards.
John Hartigan:
Sometimes the truth doesn't matter like it ought. But you'll always remember things right. That's gonna mean a lot to me. But stay away, Nancy. They'll kill you if you don't stay away. Don't visit me. Don't write me. Don't even say my name.
Nancy, Age 11:
Maybe you won't let me visit, but I'll still write to you, Hartigan. I'll sign my letters "Cordelia." That's the name of a really cool detective in books I read. I'll write to you every week... for forever.
John Hartigan:
Sure, kid. Now run on home. It's not safe for you here. [Nancy walks away]
John Hartigan:
Bye, Nancy. [Nancy turns around at the door]
Nancy, Age 11:
I love you.
[In a shooting range, confronted with numerous menacing-looking targets, Edwards shoots a cardboard little girl]
Zed:
May I ask why you felt little Tiffany deserved to die?
James Edwards:
Well, she was the only one that actually seemed dangerous at the time, sir.
Zed:
How'd you come to that conclusion?
James Edwards:
Well, first I was gonna pop this guy hanging from the street light, and I realized, y'know, he's just working out. I mean, how would I feel if somebody come runnin' in the gym and bust me in my ass while I'm on the treadmill? Then I saw this snarling beast guy, and I noticed he had a tissue in his hand, and I'm realizing, y'know, he's not snarling, he's sneezing. Y'know, ain't no real threat there. Then I saw little Tiffany. I'm thinking, y'know, eight-year-old white girl, middle of the ghetto, bunch of monsters, this time of night with quantum physics books? She about to start some shit, Zed. She's about eight years old, those books are WAY too advanced for her. If you ask me, I'd say she's up to something. And to be honest, I'd appreciate it if you eased up off my back about it. [pause]
James Edwards:
Or do I owe her an apology? [pauses again]
James Edwards:
That's a good shot though...
Hunter:
Rivetti, what's up?
Petty Officer First Class Danny Rivetti:
I'm sorry, Sir. It's just a difference of opinion that got out of hand.
Hunter:
What about?
Petty Officer First Class Danny Rivetti:
It's really too silly to talk about, Sir. I'd really just forget about...
Hunter:
I don't give a damn about what you'd rather forget about. Why were you two fighting?
Petty Officer First Class Danny Rivetti:
I said, the Kirby Silver Surfer was the only real Silver Surfer. And that the Moebius Silver Surfer was shit. And Bennefield's a big Moebius fan. And it got of hand. I pushed him. He pushed me. I lost my head, Sir. I'm Sorry.
Hunter:
Rivetti, you're a supervisor. You can get a commission like that. [Snaps finger]
Petty Officer First Class Danny Rivetti:
I know, Sir. You're 100 percent right. It will never happen again.
Hunter:
It better not happen again. If I see this kind of nonsense again, I'm going to write you up. You understand?
Petty Officer First Class Danny Rivetti:
[No answer]
Hunter:
Do you understand?
Petty Officer First Class Danny Rivetti:
Yes, Sir.
Hunter:
You have to set an example even in the face of stupidity. Everybody who reads comic books knows that the Kirby Silver Surfer is the only true Silver Surfer. Now am I right or wrong?
Petty Officer First Class Danny Rivetti:
You're right, Sir.
Hunter:
Now get out of here.
Petty Officer First Class Danny Rivetti:
Yes, Sir.
Max Bialystock:
How did it begin? He walked into my office with his cockamamy scheme! You can make more money with a flop than with a hit! We can do it. We can do it. I can't do it. We can do it. I can't do it. Good-bye Max! Oh Lord I want that money! I'm back Max! Come on Leo we can do it! Step 1: Find the Play! See it, Smell it, Touch it, Kiss it! Hello Mr. Liebkind! Guten Tag, hop hop Guten Tag, clop clop! Adolf Elizabeth Hitler? Guten Tag, hop hop Guten Tag, clop clop! Step 2: Hire the Director Keep it gay, keep it gay, keep it Two-three, kick, turn, turn, turn, kick, turn! Ulla! Oooh wah weee wah wah wow wowie! Step 3: Raise the Money! Along Came Bialy! Step 4: Hire all the actors! A wandering minstrel I, A thing of shreds and... Next! The little wooden boy. Next! That's our Hitler! Break a leg! I broke my leg! Springtime for Hitler and Germany- A surprise smash! Springtime for Hitler and Germany- It'll run for years! Where did we go right? Where did we go right? Gimme those books Fat, fat, fatty! Gimme those books! Fat, fat, fatty! Books, fat! Books, fat! Books, fat! Books, fat! Lousy fruit- Kill the actors You ever eat with one? Then you ran to Rio And you're safely out of reach, I'm behind these bars you're banging Ulla on the beach! Just like Julius Caesar was betrayed by Brutus, Who'd think an accountant would turn out to be my Judas! I'm so dismayed, is this how I'm repaid? To be... Betrayed! BETRAYED!
Laura Owens:
I admit it, I was amazed. He's nothing like anyone you've ever gone out with before, so what's the change?
Lucy Owens:
I'm maturing.
Laura Owens:
Even his name, it's so not you. It's so primal - Adam.
Lucy Owens:
Yeah, yeah, it's a crap name, all right.
Laura Owens:
And he reads. He can quote Christina Rossetti.
Lucy Owens:
Oh. What'd he do that for?
Laura Owens:
It came up and you know, she's not exactly a household name as a poet so I have to say, I approve totally. I just hope you're ready for you know, whatever happens.
Lucy Owens:
Oh yeah, I'm full of surprises. So, are you jealous?
Laura Owens:
Come on, that's unfair.
Lucy Owens:
[voice over of Lucy thinking to herself] Poor Laura. Of course she's not jealous. Too good-natured. Wouldn't it be deadly, though if it turns out to be me that has this great passion she's always going on about?
Laura Owens:
Hold on a sec, I just want to buy this
Lucy Owens:
[voice over continues] Another book. Doesn't she know books won't do it?
Frank James:
You're not so special, Mr. Ford. You're just like any other tyro who's prinked himself up for an escapade, hoping to be a gunslinger like them nickel books are about. You may as well quench your mind of it, because you don't have the ingredients, son.
Robert Ford:
Well, I'm sorry to hear you feel that way, as I put such stock in your opinion. As for me being a gunslinger, I've just got this one granddaddy Paterson Colt and a borrowed belt to stick it in. But I also got an appetite for greater things. I hoped by joining up with you, it'd put me that much closer to getting them.
Frank James:
Well, what am I supposed to say to that?
Robert Ford:
Let me be your sidekick tonight.
Frank James:
Sidekick?
Robert Ford:
So you can examine my grit and intelligence.
Frank James:
I don't know what it is about you, but the more you talk, the more you give me the willies. Now I don't believe I want you anywhere within earshot this evening, okay? You understand?
Robert Ford:
Well, I'm sorry...
Frank James:
Why don't you just get, now? Scat!
