Category: quotes

“Who wants to be in heaven, eh? Who wants to be in heaven when you can be sending men to fucking hell?”

-Arthur Shelby – (Peaky Blinders)

Colvin: Now, middle-management means that you have just enough responsibility that you gotta listen when people talk, and not so much that you can tell anybody to go fuck themselves.

-The wire (2002)

Chuck Rhoades: Excuse me, sir.
Man: What?
Chuck Rhoades:
You didn’t clean up after your dog.
Man: Yeah, I forgot the bag today.
Chuck Rhoades: Oh, I don’t think so because, you know, it’s not just the statutory law, it’s the law of civility, man. And I’ve seen you before. You come out of that building, your dog craps, and you just leave it where it falls.
Man: Why don’t you mind your business?
Chuck Rhoades: This is my business.
Man: Oh, you’re that guy.
Chuck Rhoades: I am that guy.
Man: All right, well, do you have an extra bag?
Chuck Rhoades: No, no. See, I used mine.
Man: Well, I’ll get it next time.
Chuck Rhoades: No, I think you need to get it this time.
Man: Why don’t you let it slide?
Chuck Rhoades: “Let it slide.” That sounds simple, easy. Sure, let it slide. That’s just some dog shit. But those are three devious little words. You know, if if I let your dog shit slide, then I have to be okay with this whole plaza filling up with it, which it would before we know it. Oh, then it would be on our pant legs and our shoes, and we would track it into our homes, and then our homes would smell like shit, too. It’d be easy to let it slide. You know, why don’t we, uh, why don’t we let petty larceny slide, too? Some kid steals five bucks from a newsstand? Who cares? Well, maybe next time he decides to steal your TV or break into your brownstone and steal your fucking wife. But what difference does it make? Because by then, we’re all living in shit anyway.

-Billions (2016)

Thaddeus Stevens: How can I hold that all men are created equal, when here before me stands, stinking, the moral carcass of the gentleman from Ohio, proof that some men are inferior. Endowed by their Maker with dim wits, impermeable to reason, with cold, pallid slime in their veins instead of hot red blood! You are more reptile than man, George! So low and flat, that the foot of man is incapable of crushing you!

George Pendleton: How dare you?

Thaddeus Stevens: Yet even you, Pendleton, who should have been gibbeted for treason long before today, even worthless unworthy you ought to be treated equally before the law! And so again, sir, and again and again and again I say: I do not hold with equality in all things. Only with equality before the law.

-Lincoln (2012)

-چرا نرفتی؟
-میترسم ببازم
-خب ببازی. چی میشه؟ ماام میخوایم امشب ببازیم.
-باخت تو فرق داره موسی …
-چه فرقی داره؟ تا حالا بردی؟
-آره
-حالا بازم بباز. یا ببر. یا هرچی. برو برو، برو خودتو لوس نکن. برو بازی کن.

ـانتهای خیابان هشتم

Monty Brogan: Yeah, fuck you, too. Fuck me? Fuck you, Fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it. Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back. Fuck the squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car – get a fucking job! Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped-up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35. Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English? Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin’ and dealin’ and schemin’. Go back where you fucking came from! Fuck the black-hatted Chassidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds! Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gekko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for FUCKING LIFE! You think Bush and Cheney didn’t know about that shit? Give me a fucking break! Tyco! Worldcom! Fuck the Puerto Ricans. Twenty to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin’ parade in the city. And don’t even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, ’cause they make the Puerto Ricans look good. Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, their St. Anthony medallions, swinging their Jason Giambi Louisville Slugger baseball bats, trying to audition for “The Sopranos.” Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermès scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny. You’re not fooling anybody, sweetheart! Fuck the uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don’t want to play defense, they take five steps on every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago. Move the fuck on! Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus-violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust! Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child’s pants. Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And while you’re at it, fuck J.C.! He got off easy! A day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity! Try seven years in fuckin’ Otisville, J.! Fuck Osama Bin Laden, al-Qaeda, and backward-ass cave-dwelling fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fuel fire in hell. You towel-headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal Irish ass! Fuck Jacob Elinsky. Whining malcontent. Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery my best friend, judging me while he stares at my girlfriend’s ass. Fuck Naturelle Riviera, I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back, sold me up the river, fucking bitch. Fuck my father with his endless grief, standing behind that bar sipping on club sodas, selling whisky to firemen, and cheering the Bronx Bombers. Fuck this whole city and everyone in it. From the row-houses of Astoria to the penthouses on Park Avenue, from the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho. From the tenements in Alphabet City to the brownstones in Park Slope to the split-levels in Staten Island. Let an earthquake crumble it, let the fires rage, let it burn to fucking ash and then let the waters rise and submerge this whole rat-infested place.

[pause]

Monty Brogan: No. No, fuck you, Montgomery Brogan. You had it all, and you threw it away, you dumb fuck!

Monty Brogan, 25th Hour, 2002

اولیور استون: همیشه اولین تلاش ترور به این صورته که سعی میکنن به حلقه‌ی حفاظت رئیس جمهور نفوذ کنن.

ولادیمیر پوتین: بله این رو میدونم. ولی تو میدونی روس‌ها در این مورد چی میگن؟ میگن اونایی که تقدیرشون آویخته شدن به داره، توی دریا غرق نخواهند شد.

استون: (خنده)، تقدیر شما چیه، آقا؟ میدونین؟

پوتین: فقط خدا تقدیر ما رو میدونه — من و تو رو.

استون: مردن توی تخت، شاید.

پوتین: یه روز این اتفاق برای هر یک از ما میفته. سوال اینه که تا اون موقع چه کارهایی در این دنیای گذرا انجام دادیم، و اینکه آیا از زندگیمون لذت کافی رو بردیم؟