Have the lambs stopped screaming?
What’s in the box? What’s in the fucking box?
This guy's methodical, exacting, and worst of all, patient.
A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti.
Ernest Hemingway once wrote, "The world is a fine place and worth fighting for." I agree with the second part.
Detective. Detective. DETECTIVE! You're looking for me.
- He hissed at you. What did he say?
- He said, "I can smell your cunt."
- I see. I myself cannot.
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.