Doc: Roads? Where we're going, we don't need roads.
Marty: That's right, Doc. November 12,1955.
Doc: Unbelievable, that old Biff could have chosen that particular date. It could mean that that point in time inherently contains some sort of cosmic significance. Almost as if it were the junction point for the entire space-time continuum. On the other hand, it could just be an amazing coincidence.
Doc: The time-traveling is just too dangerous. Better that I devote myself to study the other great mystery of the universe...women!
Marty: You mean I'm going to see where I live? I'm going to see myself as an old man?
Doc: No, no, no, Marty, that could result in a...[gasps]. Great Scott! Jennifer could conceivably encounter her future self! The consequences of that could be disastrous.
Marty: Doc, what do you mean?
Doc: I foresee two possibilities. One, coming face-to-face with herself 30 years older would put her in shock and she'd simply pass out. Or two, the encounter could create a time paradox, the result of which could cause a chain reaction that would unravel the very fabric of the space-time continuum and destroy the entire universe! Granted, that's a worse-case scenario. The destruction might in fact be very localized, limited to merely our own galaxy.
Marty: Well, that's a relief.
Doc: Marty! What in the name of Sir Isaac H. Newton happened here?
Jennifer: Excuse me, Doc Brown. I brought this message back from the future and, well, now it's erased.
Doc: Of course it's erased.
Jennifer: But what does that mean?
Doc: It means your futures haven't been written yet. No one's has. Your future is what ever you make. So make it a good one, the both of you.
Doc: Clara was one in a million. One in a billion. One in a googolplex!
Young Doc: Remember, where you're going, there are no roads.
Doc: This'll shoot the fleas off a dog's back at 500 yards, Tannen! And it's pointed straight at your head!
Engineer: Is this a holdup?
Doc: It's a science experiment!
Doc: And in the future, we don't need horses. We have motorized carriages called automobiles.
Saloon Old Timer: If everybody's got one of these auto-whatsits, does anybody walk or run anymore?
Doc: Of course we run. But for recreation. For fun.
Saloon Old Timer: Run for fun? What the hell kind of fun is that?
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