Tom Milton: Listen. I know you have a world of reasons to hate these people…
Kya Clark: No, I never hated them. They hated me. They laughed at me. They left me. They harassed me. They attacked me. You want me to beg for my life? I don't have it in me. I won't. I will not offer myself up. They can make their decision. But they're not deciding anything about me. It's them. They're judging themselves.
[at Gareth's funeral]
Matthew: Gareth used to prefer funerals to weddings. He said it was easier to get enthusiastic about a ceremony one had an outside chance of eventually being involved in. In order to prepare this speech, I rang a few people, to get a general picture of how Gareth was regarded by those who met him: 'Fat' seems to have been a word people most connected with him. 'Terribly rude' also rang a lot of bells. So very 'fat' and very 'rude' seems to have been a stranger's viewpoint. On the other hand, some of you have been kind enough to ring me and let me know that you loved him, which I know he would have been thrilled to hear. You remember his fabulous hospitality, his strange experimental cooking: the recipe for "Duck à la Banana" fortunately goes with him to his grave. Most of all, you tell me of his enormous capacity for joy. When joyful, when joyful for highly vocal drunkenness. But I hope joyful is how you will remember him, not stuck in a box in a church. Pick your favourite of his waistcoats and remember him that way. The most splendid, replete, big-hearted, weak-hearted as it turned out, and jolly bugger most of us ever met. As for me, you may ask how I will remember him, what I thought of him. Unfortunately, there I run out of words. Perhaps you will forgive me if I turn from my own feelings to the words of another splendid bugger: W.H. Auden. This is actually what I want to say: "Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone. Silence the pianos and with muffled drum, Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let the aeroplanes circle, moaning overhead, Scribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead'. Put crepe bows 'round the white necks of the public doves, Let traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest; My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song. I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood, For nothing now can ever come to any good."
Admiral Yamamoto: I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant.
Ichabod Crane: Villainy wears many masks, none so dangerous as the mask of virtue.
John Smith: [while driving, pursued by hit men in three black BMW'S] I never told you, but I was married once before.
Jane Smith: [slams on the brakes]
John Smith: What's wrong with you?
Jane Smith: [slapping John's arms and legs] You're what's wrong with me John.
John Smith: It was just a drunken Vegas thing.
Jane Smith: Oh, that's better. That's *much* better.
[pause]
Jane Smith: What's her name and social security number?
John Smith: No, you're not gonna kill her.
Mitch McDeere: I got mine, Wayne, you get the rest of them.
Wayne Tarrance: Get 'em with what? Overbilling, mail fraud? Oh, that's exciting.
Mitch McDeere: It's not sexy, but it's got teeth! Ten thousand dollars and five years in prison. That's ten and five for each act. Have you really looked at that? You've got every partner in the firm on overbilling. There's two hundred fifty acts of documented mail fraud there. That's racketeering! That's minimum one thousand, two hundred fifty years in prison and half a million dollars in fines. That's more than you had on Capone.
Truman: [repeated line; frequently in the show] Good morning, oh and in case I don't see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and good night!
Ian Donnelly: [reading from a book by Louise Banks] "Language is the foundation of civilization. It is the glue that holds a people together. It is the first weapon drawn in a conflict."
Dr. Wilbur Larch: Goodnight, you princes of Maine, you kings of New England.
Pere Henri: I'm not sure what the theme of my homily today ought to be. Do I want to speak of the miracle of Our Lord's divine transformation? Not really, no. I don't want to talk about His divinity. I'd rather talk about His humanity. I mean, you know, how He lived His life, here on Earth. His *kindness*, His *tolerance*… Listen, here's what I think. I think that we can't go around… measuring our goodness by what we don't do. By what we deny ourselves, what we resist, and who we exclude. I think… we've got to measure goodness by what we *embrace*, what we create… and who we include.