Eugene: That’s stupid. Punk rock. I don’t, you know. . .I just think of it as rock ‘n’ roll cuz that’s what it is. You know?
Penelope: What do you like about it?
Eugene: Well, I like that it’s like. . .something new and it’s just reviving old rock ‘n’ roll. And it’s like it’s raw again. It’s for real. And it’s fun, and you know. . .it’s like, it’s not bullshit. There’s no rock stars now, you know.
Dole Office Clerk: Occupation?
Comicus: Stand-up philosopher.
Dole Office Clerk: What?
Comicus: Stand-up philosopher. I coalesce the vapors of human experience into a viable and meaningful comprehension.
Dole Office Clerk: Oh, a *bullshit* artist!
Dole Office Clerk: Did you bullshit last week?
Dole Office Clerk: Did you *try* to bullshit last week?
Frank: Did it ever occur to you, to try to work for a living? Take down your own scores?
Unnamed Detective: OK, fuck this guy.
Urrizi: I’ll tell you something, I’m gonna be on your ass so much, you’re gonna get careless. And on that day I’m gonna be in that place.
Frank: And that, is the last place that you wanna be. ‘Cause no matter what happens, I will never, ever take a pinch from a greasy motherfucker like you.
Felix Farmer: Alright, writers! Writers! Who wrote Last Tango? Culley!
Tim Culley: Beats me.
Felix Farmer: My God, Culley! Neither one of us knows who wrote Last Tango!
Tim Culley: I hated it. I can never remember the names of people who perpetrate something I hate.
Felix Farmer: But that’s the trouble, don’t you see? I hated it too!
Tim Culley: In my opinion, a discretionary judgement.
Felix Farmer: But we’re wrong, Culley. That’s what they want! That’s where it’s at!
Tim Culley: It’s been my experience that every time I think I know “where it’s at,” it’s usually somewhere else.
Bob Hauk: There was an accident. About an hour ago, a small jet went down inside New York City. The President was on board.
Snake Plissken: President of what?
Bob Hauk: That’s not funny, Plissken. You go in, find the President, bring him out in 24 hours, and you’re a free man.
Snake Plissken: 24 hours, huh?
Bob Hauk: I’m making you an offer.
Snake Plissken: Bullshit!
Bob Hauk: Straight just like I said.
Snake Plissken: I’ll think about it.
Bob Hauk: No time. Give me an answer.
Snake Plissken: Get a new president!
Bob Hauk: We’re still at war, Plissken. We need him alive.
Snake Plissken: I don’t give a fuck about your war. . .or your president.
Bob Hauk: Is that your answer?
Snake Plissken: I’m thinking about it.
Bob Hauk: Think hard.
Snake Plissken: [beat] Why me?
Bob Hauk: You flew the Gullfire over Leningrad. You know how to get in quiet. You’re all I got.
Snake Plissken: I guess I go in one way or the other. . .doesn’t mean shit to me. All right. . .I’ll do it. Give me the pardon paper.
Bob Hauk: When you come out.
Snake Plissken: Before.
Bob Hauk: I told you I wasn’t a fool, Plissken.
Snake Plissken: Call me Snake.
Hobson: You spoiled little bastard! You’re a man who has everything, haven’t you? But that’s not enough. You feel unloved. Arthur, welcome to the world. Everyone is unloved. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself. And incidentally, I love you. Marry Susan, Arthur. Poor drunks do not find love, Arthur. Poor drunks have very few teeth, they urinate outdoors, they freeze to death in summer. I can’t bear to think of you that way.
Arthur: I need Linda, Hobson.
Hobson: I see. Well, perhaps fate will lend a hand. One never knows.