So, Mi-chelle! What are you up to?
Oh, okay. Um, I invented Post-Its.
No offense, Michele, but how in the world did *you* think of Post-Its?
[looks across the room at Romy talking to Billy Christianson]
And I thought of them completely by myself. I mean, all Michele did was say: ”What about making them yellow?”
[turns to the A Group]
Actually I invented a special kind of glue.
Oh really? Well then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind giving us a detailed account of exactly how you concocted this miracle glue, would you?
No. Um, well, ordinarily when you make glue first you need to thermoset your resin and then after it cools you have to mix in an epoxide, which is really just a fancy-schmancy name for any simple oxygenated adhesive, right? And then I thought maybe, just maybe, you could raise the viscosity by adding a complex glucose derivative during the emulsification process and it turns out I was right.
I really don’t understand why anybody will work for you. When… when you’re so awful and stupid and not nice.
I pay him good money.
[when finding the therapist dead on the floor, having choked to death on a champagne bottle cork]
He’s drunk himself to death quite quickly, he has. Well, at least he won’t have to have any hangover tomorrow.
[singing on her guitar]
Forgiveness, is more than saying sorry. To forgive is divine. So let’s have a glass of wine. And have make-up sex until the end of time, time, time, time, timmmmmmeee! Time.
And you Mr. Brandt, how can you justify this deception?
I can neither confirm nor deny details of any operation without the Secretary’s approval.
[explaining to George as the village sings around the campfire]
They are singing the legend of Tarzan. For many moons he was thought to be an evil spirit – a ghost in the trees. They speak of his power over the animals of the jungle. Because his spirit came from them. He understood them. And learned to conquer them. His ape mother, Kala, loved him as her own. And his ape brother, Akut, treated him with kindness and respect. He considered all men to be his enemies, since other tribes would hunt his troop as a rite of passage. Chief Muviro knew what he was. You must get to him. Since no man ever started with less.
What do you want?
Well, it’s, uh, 3 in the morning, I want what every man wants.
She’s Basque, isn’t she?
They say Basques live by the vendetta. If they hate someone it’s to the death. It’s the same when they love.