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Movie Quote of the Day – Traffic, 2000 (dir. Steven Soderbergh)


Voice: [over their headsets] Okay. She’s coming out. She’s leaving her property.
Gordon: The hell is she going?
Castro: Maybe the neighbors?
Gordon: No, I don’t think the neighbors are fucking with her too much right about now.
Castro: What does she have in her hand there?
Voice: [over their headsets] She seems to be heading for the van.
Gordon: Oh shit. W..w..what do we do?
Castro: I don’t know what we do. What do we do?
Gordon: What do you think she wants, man?
Castro: She’s your girlfriend. Maybe she’ll invite you to her baby shower.
[opens van door]
Gordon: Hello?
Helena: Would you like some lemonade? [beat] I was just making some.
Gordon: [to Castro] Want some lemonade?
Castro: [unsure] Sure.
Helena: I know this is a difficult situation and you’re only doing your jobs. I don’t wish you guys any ill-will or anything like that; but I have a favor to ask you.
Castro: You asking us for a favor?
Helena: Some man threatened my child. These charges have created so much attention and it seems to be bringing all the nut-jobs out of the nut jar, you know? [beat] Would you keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.
Gordon: Sure. Yeah. Of course, we will.
Helena:  I really appreciate it.
Gordon: Sure.
Helena: Thanks.
Castro: Thank you for the lemonade.
[closes the doors]
Castro: I’m going to get this analyzed right away, bro.

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Movie Quote of the Day – Syriana, 2005 (dir. Stephen Gaghan)


Bob Barnes: If anything happens to me or my family. . .an accident, an accusation, anything. . .then, first, your son will disappear. His body will never be found. Then your wife. Her body will never be found either. Now, this is guaranteed. [beat] Then whatever is the most dangerous thing that you do in your life. . .it might be flying in a small plane. . .it might be walking to the bank. . .you’ll be killed. [beat] Understand what I’m saying? I want you to acknowledge that you understand so that we’re clear and there won’t be any mistakes.
Dean Whitting: Beirut rules, Mr. Barnes?