[John is holding a gun to his head]
Terminator:
You cannot self-terminate.
John Connor:
No, you can't. I can do anything I want. I'm a human being, not some god-damn robot.
Terminator:
[correcting him] Cybernetic organism.
John Connor:
Whatever! Either we go, and save her Dad, or so much for the Great John Conner. Because your future, my destiny, I want no part in it, I never did.
Terminator:
Based on your pupil dilation, skin temperature, and motor functions, I calculate an 83% probability that you will not pull the trigger.
[Ricky tries to convince Bob they should get a gun]
Ricky Slade:
Here's scenario B for you Bob, see how you feel about this one. Now I don't know if you've noticed this or not, but I think I'm starting to get under Ruiz's skin as well, OK? It all started with the whole Red Dragon, or the Welsh guy, whatever, they can play it down all they want but you know 200 grand's a lot of fucking money! It's a fucking lot of money! OK? 200 grand is definitely a lot of fucking money! And now I've got Ruiz calling me fucking Fruit-Pie the fucking magician! Tellin' me that I can't fucking call my main man Max, who fucking sent me out on the fucking operation? And what about the Welsh guy? He's fucking scat all over, they fucking disappear and talk! And you haven't noticed this either but when he's not fucking looking at me or you're fucking doing whatever, I've got fucking Jimmy in the mirror with his shit too. It's fucking coming at me from here, I don't know where it is! It might be coming this way, it might be coming that way, but the fucking shit's coming and I'm not gonna be late for the fucking dance man, I'm not gonna be fucking late for the dance on this one.
Bobby:
You're not getting a gun.
Sweeney Todd:
What may I do for you today, sir? A stylish trimming of the hair? A soothing skin massage? Sit, sir, sit.
Judge Turpin:
[singing] You see, sir, a man infatuate with love, her ardent and eager slave. So fetch the pomade and pumice stone and lend me a more seductive tone, a sprinkling perhaps of French cologne, but first, sir, I think... a shave.
Sweeney Todd:
The closest I ever gave.