If I'd known we were gonna cast our feelings into words, I'd've memorized the Song of Solomon.
Ernest Hemingway once wrote, "The world is a fine place and worth fighting for." I agree with the second part.
What’s in the box? What’s in the fucking box?
Detective. Detective. DETECTIVE! You're looking for me.
This guy's methodical, exacting, and worst of all, patient.
If you want me to keep my mouth shut, it's gonna cost you some dough. I figure a thousand bucks is reasonable, so I want two.
Wanting people to listen, you can't just tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer, and then you'll notice you've got their strict attention.
You're no messiah. You're a movie of the week. You're a fucking t-shirt, at best.
Nobody knows anybody. Not that well.