Sam:
You don't realize, this is good, this doesn't happen often in your life. We can work this stuff out. I want to help you, you know? We need each other...
Andrew Largeman:
This isn't a conversation about this being over, it's, it's... I'm not, like, putting a period at the end of this, you know, I'm putting, like, an ellipsis on it, cause I'm- I'm- I'm worried that if I don't figure myself out, if I don't go like land on my own two feet, then I'm just gonna to mess this whole thing up, and this is too important. I gotta go... you changed my life in four days. This is the beginning of something really big. But right now, I gotta go.
Lucy Hill:
[conversation at dinner table] Industrial competition in a free-market economy is what built this country.
Ted Mitchell:
No, robber barons built this country, and they did it from the blood of working folks. Hell, you steal somebody's car, you get thrown in jail, you steal somebody's life savings, you get to be a CEO.
Lucy Hill:
I'm planning on being a CEO.
Ted Mitchell:
Well, Blanche, you better count the silverware before she leaves, then.
Lucy Hill:
Oh, don't bother, I'm leaving now.
Ted Mitchell:
Not if I leave first. [both get up to leave together]
In good company there is never such discourse between two, across the table, as takes place when you leave them alone. In good company, the individuals merge their egotism into a social soul exactly coextensive with the several consciousnesses there present. No partialities of friend to friend, no fondnesses of brother to sister, of wife to husband, are there pertinent, but quite otherwise. Only he may then speak who can sail on the common thought of the party, and not poorly limited to his own. Now this convention, which good sense demands, destroys the high freedom of great conversation, which requires an absolute running of two souls into one.
Mr. Stack:
Come in!
Karl:
Uh, hello, Mr. Stack, Mr. Conrad, Mr. Archibald
Mr. Conrad:
What do you want, douche bag?
Karl:
May I... you know... how do you... how do you do this? I don't know... Ah - oh!... All right there we go. Hmm, um... I just couldn't help but hear your conversation yesterday about Marshall Hogan and how he, you know, did stuff with your wife.
Mr. Conrad:
[grabs Karl and strangles him] What did you say about my wife?
Karl:
You don't understand!
Mr. Conrad:
I will rip your dick off and shove it up your ass! You hear me, you scrawny little bastard?
Karl:
No, i'm on your side.
Mr. Stack:
Let's hear what the butt-licker has to say.
Mr. Conrad:
Speak Karl!
Karl:
Okay, Well... I saw him this morning, so I couldn't help but notice that he had... he was driving this 91 convertible Camaro that was red, and so I said "Hey, nice car." and he said "Hell... um... thank you, Yeah it's brand new, I just got it today." So on impulse, I took out my work pen which I brought back and I wrote down his license plate number while he was driving away, because you said that if he owned a car, you would, oh darn, what was it?. What, what did you say? I ca... I can't remember!
Mr. Conrad:
I said I'd put a bomb in it and blow him up beyond dental records.