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En förtrollad romans

En förtrollad romans

Dalton Russell: I'm no martyr. I did it for the money. But it's not worth much if you can't face yourself in the mirror. Respect is the ultimate currency. I was stealing from a man who traded his away for a few dollars. And then he tried to wash away his guilt. Drown it in a lifetime of good deeds and a sea of respectability. It almost worked, too. But inevitably, the further you run from your sins, the more exhausted you are when they catch up to you. And they do. Certain. It will not fail.

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Änglar och demoner

Änglar och demoner

Camerlengo Patrick McKenna: Christianity's most sacred codices are in that archive. Given your recent… entanglement with the Church, there is a question I'd like to ask you first here in-in the office of His Holiness.
[Walks towards Robert Langdon]
Camerlengo Patrick McKenna: Do you believe in God, sir?
Robert Langdon: [pause] Father, I simply believe that religion…
Camerlengo Patrick McKenna: I did not ask if you believe what man says about God. I asked if you believe in God.
Robert Langdon: [pause] I'm an academic. My mind tells me I will never… understand God.
Camerlengo Patrick McKenna: And your heart?
Robert Langdon: [pause] Tells me I'm not meant to. Faith is a gift… that I have yet to receive.
Camerlengo Patrick McKenna: [pauses to consider his words] Be delicate with our treasures.

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Blades of Glory

Blades of Glory

Jimmy: So, Coach, I was thinking about the music for our routine.
Coach: Oh, really?
Chazz: We're gonna dance to one song, and one song only: "Lady Humps" by the Blackeyed Peas. "What you gonna do with all that junk, all that junk inside your trunk? I'm a get you, get you drunk, get you drunk off my lady humps, my humps, my humps, my lovely lady humps."
Jimmy: [disgusted] I'm not skating to anything with references to lady humps. I don't even know what that means.
Chazz: No one knows what it means, but it's provocative…
Jimmy: No, it's not, it's gross…
Chazz: …It gets the people going!

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Boiling Point

Boiling Point

Carly: We are working our fucking asses off here. You know what? Andy. I just, I am sick to the back teeth of your fuck-ups being blamed on us. Look how hard everyone's working here. Look how hard everyone is working to earn you money. But you keep… You just haven't got a fucking clue. We're run off our asses here because you overbooked, but you're so fucking stupid that you don't even know that you've done it, do you? Do you realise that you've overbooked? No? No? And on top of that, she's asking us to go off menu to cook fucking steak for some bullshit influencers. And you haven't put the allergies on the system so we're having to refer to your scrawny, hand-written fucking note all night. Do you know how much pressure we're under? You know, maybe, maybe, maybe. Okay. Maybe if you spent half as much time learning how to run a restaurant instead of whoring your arse on social media like a budget fucking Kardashian, then we won't be so much in the shit that we are now. You talk to us all like we are the dirt on the bottom of your fucking shoe. Well, I'll tell you something, love, I've had enough of it. I do not fucking like you. They don't like you. Nobody likes you. And this job is not worth it. I do not get paid enough to deal with this shit.

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