Grandpa Joe: Mr. Wonka! I don't know if you remember me, but I used to work here in the factory.
Willy Wonka: Were you one of those despicable spies who everyday tried to steal my life's work and sell it to those parasitic copycat candy making cads?
Grandpa Joe: No, sir.
Willy Wonka: Then wonderful, welcome back.
Gingy: OK, OK...I'll tell you. Do you know the Muffin Man?
Farquad: The Muffin Man?
Gingy: The Muffin Man.
Farquad: Yes, I know the Muffin Man. Who lives on Drury Lane?
Gingy: Well...she's married to...the Muffin Man.
Farquad: The Muffin Man?
Gingy: The Muffin Man!
Farquad: She's married to the Muffin Man?
The Joker: I believe whatever doesn't kill you, simply makes you... Stranger.
The Grinch: The nerve of those Whos. Inviting me down there - and on such short notice. Even if I wanted to go my schedule simply wouldn't allow it. 4:00, wallow in self pity; 4:30, stare into the abyss; 5:00, solve world hunger, tell no-one. 5:30, jazzercize. 6:30, dinner with me. I can't cancel that again. 7:00, wrestle with my self-loathing; I'm booked. Of course, if I bump the loathing to 9 I could still be done in time to lay in bed, stare at the ceiling and slip slowly into madness. But what would I wear?
Paul Edgecomb: On the day of my judgment, when I stand before God, and He asks me why did I kill one of his true miracles, what am I gonna say? That it was my job? My job?
John Coffey: You tell God the Father it was a kindness you done. I know you hurtin' and worryin', I can feel it on you, but you oughta quit on it now. Because I want it over and done. I do. I'm tired, boss. Tired of bein' on the road, lonely as a sparrow in the rain. Tired of not ever having me a buddy to be with, or tell me where we's coming from or going to, or why. Mostly I'm tired of people being ugly to each other. I'm tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world everyday. There's too much of it. It's like pieces of glass in my head all the time. Can you understand?
Paul Edgecomb: Yes, John. I think I can.
George Bailey: Just a minute... Just a minute. Now, hold on, Mr. Potter. You're right when you say my father was no businessman. I know that. Why he ever started this cheap, penny-ante Building and Loan, I'll never know. But neither you nor anyone else can say anything against his character, because his whole life was... Why, in the 25 years since he and his brother, Uncle Billy, started this thing, he never once thought of himself. Isn't that right, Uncle Billy? He didn't save enough money to send Harry away to college, let alone me. But he did help a few people get out of your slums, Mr. Potter, and what's wrong with that? Why... Here, you're all businessmen here. Doesn't it make them better citizens? Doesn't it make them better customers? You... You said...what'd you say a minute ago? They had to wait and save their money before they even ought to think of a decent home. Wait? Wait for what? Until their children grow up and leave them? Until they're so old and broken down that they... Do you know how long it takes a working man to save $5,000? Just remember this, Mr. Potter, that this rabble you're talking about...they do most of the working and paying and living and dying in this community. Well, is it too much to have them work and pay and live and die in a couple of decent rooms and a bath? Anyway, my father didn't think so. People were human beings to him. But to you, a warped, frustrated old man, they're cattle. Well in my book, my father died a much richer man than you'll ever be!
Inigo Montoya: That Vizzini, he can fuss.
Fezzik: ...fuss...fuss... I think he likes to scream at us.
Inigo Montoya: Probably he means no harm.
Fezzik: He's really very short on charm.
Inigo Montoya: Oh, you've a great gift for rhyme.
Fezzik: Yes, yes, some of the time.
Vizzini: Enough of that.
Inigo Montoya: Fezzik, are there rocks ahead?
Fezzik: If there are, we'll all be dead.
Vizzini: No more rhymes now, I mean it.
Fezzik: Anybody want a peanut?
Dingle: Wiggle my ears and tickle my toes, methinks I see a baby's nose! It's more than a nose. There's a whole baby attached to it. Better call my brothers! Wingle! Bingle! Tingle! Zingle.
Zingle: What is it, Dingle?
Wingle: It's a baby, Zingle.
Tingle: A baby what, Wingle?
Bingle: A baby baby, Tingle.
Dingle: I like babies, Bingle.
Bingle: Our baby's the best baby of them all, Wingle.