Paul Smecker: Oh, isn't that beautiful? All the lowlifes in quiet city Boston start dropping dead and *you* think it's unrelated! Greenly, the day I want the Boston Police to do my thinking for me, I will have a fucking tag on my toe!
Boston Low: IF they can make bridges out of light, you have to wonder if they can make anything ELSE. Maggie Robbins: You mean... Light beer? Boston Low: I was thinking more of a light house. Boston Low: [player clicks same conversation trigger] Light-minded. Maggie Robbins: Light-fingered. Boston Low: Light summer clothing. Maggie Robbins: Light-hearted. Boston Low: Light salad dressing. Maggie Robbins: De-lighted!
Mary Warren: Witchin's a hangin' error in Salem, like they done in Boston two year ago!
Plainview: [Daniel has covered his face with a napkin] So Standard offered us a million dollars for the Little Boston leases, and I told H. M. Tilford where he could shove that, and we made a deal with Union! On the pipeline! And that whole ocean of oil underneath our fields! H.M. Tilford: [to his tablemates] ... 150,000 dollars... Man: We needed the money to drill. Man: I go out to meet him. He's getting oil on the property. We're trying to make a claim on it. Offered him a million dollars. Turned us down flat. Plainview: [growing frustrated] All right. [stands up, walks over and leans in to Tilford's face] Plainview: I want you to look over there. [points towards H.W] H.M. Tilford: Daniel, let me introduce you... Plainview: Look over there, you see. That's my son. You see him? You SEE? H.M. Tilford: I see him. Plainview: You don't tell me how to raise my family. I told you not to tell me how to raise my family. So, what do you see? H.M. Tilford: I'm very happy for you that... Plainview: Yes, I've made a deal with Union and my son is happy and safe. H.M. Tilford: Congratulations. Excellent... Plainview: I'm taking care of him now, so... You look like a fool, don't you Tilford? H.M. Tilford: [long pause] Yes. Plainview: Y-y-y-yes, you do. H.M. Tilford: [embarrassed] Excuse me gentlemen... Plainview: Oh, excuse me gentlemen. Excuse him, gentlemen. [to Tilford] Plainview: I told you what I was gonna do. [drinks Tilford's whiskey]
Boston Low: So this is what failure feels like.
Brink: Your name will go down in history as the boneheaded space idiot who destroyed precious data at the first alien archeological site. Boston Low: That's better than having my name go down in history as the commander of a space expedition that disappeared and was never heard from again.
Mike Eruzione: You're Robbie McClanahan, right? Rob McClanahan: Yeah Mike Eruzione: Mike Eruzione. Boston University. Rob McClanahan: Seventy- six. Mike Eruzione: Seventy- six. [pause] Mike Eruzione: You're trying to play for Brooks a little more, huh? Rob McClanahan: I played for him for four years. A few more months wouldn't hurt. What about you? Mike Eruzione: Just trying to play a little more hockey, that's all. Rob McClanahan: Rest of your boys all here? Mike Eruzione: Of course! Think they'd miss out on all this? Might want to wait a day or so before you go over and say hi!
Laurie: Meg? Meg: Please don't tell Jo how I've behaved. Laurie: As long as you won't tell anyone how I've behaved. Meg: I was just playing a part. To see what it felt like to be Belle Gardiner with four proposals and 20 pairs of gloves. Laurie: You're worth ten of those girls. Boston Matron: Did you see the way that March girl has gone after the Laurence heir? Boston Matron: Best thing that could happen to the Marches. Meg: This ridiculous dress, I've been tripping over it all night. Laurie: Tie something around your neck where it can do you some good.
Elle: Oh, my God. I almost forgot. Detective Finchley: You want me to what? Elle: A biological birth parent search. Detective Finchley: For your dog? Elle: For my Chihuahua-American Bruiser Woods. I found him abandoned years ago. Detective Finchley: Miss, I'm the highest-paid most sought after private investigator in the greater Boston area. Elle: And that's precisely why we came to you, Detective. It is absolutely vital that we find Bruiser's mother, and pronto. His father might be a little more difficult. You know dogs. Detective Finchley: May I ask why? Elle: Of course. "Martha Stewart Weddings" recommends a 4 to 6-week window for RSVPs and naturally I can't send the invitation without an address. And the sooner I get started on all that calligraphy, really, the better. Detective Finchley: You wanna send an invitation to your wedding to your dog' mother. Are you serious? Elle: Detective, if I have to make room for my second cousin's vegan diet coach, you better believe I'm gonna make room for the mother of the one loving creature who's always been there for me. In fact, I can't believe I haven't done this sooner. Detective Finchley: I'm thinking the same thing.
[Boston has found some metal plates] Boston Low: Tell you what: I'll keep looking for more of them, and you decipher that language so we can read the directions. Maggie Robbins: Great. You get to look for metal things lying around, while I have to decode a completely alien language without any information about how they think or what they might be writing about. Yeah, that's a fair division of labor.
Ken Borden: Explosives armed. Houston gives us the go-ahead. Say when, boss. Boston Low: Do it. Ken Borden: Now let's see, is it the big green triangle, or the little red circle? Cora Miles: Shut up and push, Ken.
Bob Wilton: So what do you use to remote view? Lyn Cassady: I drink. And I find classic rock helps. Bob Wilton: Any music in particular? Lyn Cassady: Boston. Boston usually works.
Maggie Robbins: [about Brink] He is definitely insane. Boston Low: Is that your opinion as a journalist? Maggie Robbins: It's my opinion as a sane person.
Boston Low: There are some things Man was not meant to understand. Maggie Robbins: Yeah, but this one even Woman is having a hard time with.
Boston Low: [Player examines bat-like creatures on the ceiling of a cave] Disgusting bat-things. I HATE disgusting bat-things. Boston Low: [player shines a flashlight on bat creatures] It's amazing how parallel evolution on two different worlds made bats look completely weird and disgusting in both places. Boston Low: [Player shines the flashlight on the creatures again] It's kind of fun to disturb these bat things and make them fly around. Boston Low: [Player shines the flashlight on the creatures again] 'Course, if I keep doing this, one of them is bound to put some guano on my head. Boston Low: [Player shines the flashlight on the creatures again] Ah! Guano! Right in my eye.
Lost Baggage Clerk: Where are you staying in the Boston area? Henry Clark: In the Boston area we are staying in New York.
Boston Low: That'll teach you guys not to mess with Boston Low, Space Commander!
Herb Brooks: [after the fight between O' Callahan and McClanahan breaks up] Well, how 'bout it boys? Look like hockey to you? Looks more like a couple monkeys trying to hump a football to me, I don't know. What do you think Craig? Craig Patrick: [pause] Yeah. Herb Brooks: You wanna settle old scores, you're on the wrong team. We move forward starting right now. We start becoming a team RIGHT NOW! Skating. Passing. Flow. And creativity. That is what this team is all about, gentlemen. NOT old rivalries. So, why don't we start with some introductions. You know, get to know each other a little bit. Where you from. Who you are. Go ahead. [looks at McClanahan] Rob McClanahan: [rolls his eyes] Rob McClanahan. St. Paul Minnesota. Herb Brooks: Who do you play for? Rob McClanahan: I play for you, here at the U. Herb Brooks: [looks at OC] Jack? Jack O'Callahan: Jack O'Callahan. Charlestown, Mass. Boston University. Herb Brooks: [looks at Ralph Cox] Over here. Cox: I'm Ralph Cox. I'm from where ever's not gonna get me hit! Herb Brooks: Very good. Everybody on the line, let's go!
Boston Low: If I'd known we'd be making contact with an alien species, I'd have worn my Sunday best. Maggie Robbins: What's that? A t-shirt with *no* holes?
Boston Low: [talking to bones of a dead animal] You just need a little something to make you complete, my friend. Boston Low: [puts an explosive in the bones] How about a little alien explosive device?
Boston Low: It's hot in here. And it's glowing down there. [Camera goes down to reveal a big machine below] Boston Low: Ten to one it's the power source for this place. All I need to do now is to find the light switch. Or the plug. Or the fusebox. Or whatever makes this thing work. An instruction manual might help! Maybe a map! And I could use a sandwich. And a hot jukebox and a cold beer! [sighs] Boston Low: Get a grip, Boston.
[a large lobster like creatyre blocks Boston's path] Boston Low: If I go there, it's lunchtime. *His* lunchtime.
Boston Low: Brink, don't make me hurt you. Brink: You won't hurt me when you're dead!
[a little rodent steals a machine part, causing an open door to shut tight] Boston Low: The way things have been going, I can pretty much bet that whatever that little beast just stole, I'm gonna want it pretty badly in a minute or two.
Cora Miles: My rule is: if you can pick it up, take it with you, cause you never know when you might need it. Ken Borden: I have the same rule, Cora, but I thought it only applied to women in bars. If you can pick her up - [laughs] Ken Borden: . Cora Miles: [Laughs] Careful, Ken. You don't wanna find yourself getting quoted as a sexist pig in Maggie's article. Maggie Robbins: I'm not here to spy on you. Boston Low: Lighten up, Robbins, they're just teasing you. If they thought you were *really* a spy, they'd never talk freely on the open frequency.
Maggie Robbins: Maggie, you made it! Maggie Robbins: How's my hair? Boston Low: You're worried about your... Maggie Robbins: I was joking, Boston. You know, like you strong manly tupes do when you just about get killed.
Lily Malone: [angrily after finding out about the letters] . All this time she knew. You knew. All this time you let go on loving that child! You let us fight over her, and cry over her. And you never said a word! Why? Answer me. Why? Larkin Malone: I don't know. John Malone: Lily... Lily Malone: All you had to do was talk to us! Larkin Malone: Talk to you? Nobody talks about ANYTHING in this house! Not the baby, or why we never even named him. Dad's drinking, or how he sleeps downstairs... or Grandma falling, and dad moving to Boston without us! Talk to you... HOW?
Boston Low: Have you seen this boy?
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