Feelings are like kids. You don’t want them driving the car, but you don’t want to stuff them in the trunk, either.
When I drink, I ask nosey questions.
When I drink, I marry losers.
Here you go. Sunny-side eggs, sausage with bacon, home fries, homemade biscuits and country gravy. Can I get you anything else?
No, thanks. Just an angiogram.
Planning on stealing something?
No, ma’am, we’re not.
Plan on murdering me in my sleep?
[to Harper, while arguing with Cathy]
Can we have a… a-a-a minute, please ?
No, you can’t.
I would like to talk to Jack alone.
This is geopolitics. It’s not couples therapy.
[to his sons]
There are three types of people in this world: sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs. Some people prefer to believe that evil doesn’t exist in the world, and if it ever darkened their doorstep, they wouldn’t know how to protect themselves. Those are the sheep.
Then you’ve got predators who use violence to prey on the weak. They’re the wolves.
And then there are those blessed with the gift of aggression, an overpowering need to protect the flock. These men are the rare breed who live to confront the wolf. They are the sheepdog.
Can I ask you a personal question?
Daddy, look at that big ugly alligator
Buford T. Justice:
That reminds me; I gotta call yo’ mama tonight.