The Breakfast Club
John Bender: Hey, how come Andrew gets to get up? If he gets up . . . we'll all get up . . . it'll be anarchy!
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Andrew Clark: This is the worst fake I.D. I've ever seen. You realize you made yourself sixty-eight.
Brian Johnson: Oh, I know, I know. I goofed it.
Andrew Clark: What do you need a fake I.D. for?
Brian Johnson: So I can vote!
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Brian Johnson:
Dear Mr. Vernon, We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. What we did was wrong, but we think you're crazy to make us write an essay, telling you who we think we are. What do you care? You see us as you want to see us, in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. You see us as: a brain, an athlete, a basket case, princess, and a criminal. Correct? That's the way we saw each other at 7 o'clock this morning. We were brainwashed.
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John Bender: What do you guys do in your club?
Brian Johnson: In physics we, uh, we talk about physics, uh, properties of physics.
John Bender: So it's sorta social, demented and sad, but social. Right?
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The Princess Bride
Inigo Montoya: Are you the Miracle Max who worked for the king all those years?
Miracle Max: The King's stinking son fired me, and thank you so much for bringing up such a painful subject. While you're at it, why don't you give me a nice paper cut, and pour lemon juice on it?
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Inigo Montoya: You seem a decent fellow, I hate to kill you.
Westley: You seem a decent fellow, I hate to die.
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Westley: Give us the gate key.
Yellin: I have no gate key.
Inigo Montoya: Fezzik, tear his arms off.
Yellin: Oh, you mean this gate key?
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Inigo Montoya: We're in a terrible rush.
Miracle Max: Don't rush me, sonny. You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles.
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Vizzini: Am I going mad, or did the word "think" escape your lips? You were not hired for your brains, you hippopotamic land mass.
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The Grandfather: When I was your age, television was called, "books."
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Inigo Montoya: I do not mean to pry, but you don't, by any chance, happen to have six fingers on your right hand?
Westley: Do you always begin conversations this way?
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Buttercup: We'll never survive.
Westley: Nonsense, you're only saying that because no one ever has.
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Westley: It's not that bad . . . well, I'm not saying I'd like to build a summer home here, but the trees are actually quite lovely.
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Vizzini: No more rhymes, now, I mean it!
Fezzik: Anybody want a peanut?
