Businessman: You don't like flying, do you?
John McClane: What gives you that idea?
Businessman: You wanna know the secret to surviving air travel? After you get where you're going, take off your shoes and your socks then walk around on the rug bare foot and make fists with your toes.
John McClane: Fists with your toes?
Businessman: I know, I know, it sounds crazy. Trust me, I've been doing it for nine years. Yes sir, better than a shower and a hot cup of coffee.
John McClane: Okay.
[the businessman sees John's gun]
John McClane: It's okay, I'm a cop. Trust me, I've been doing this for eleven years.
Harry Ellis: Hey babe, I negotiate million dollar deals for breakfast. I think I can handle this Eurotrash.
Theo: [laughing as a LAPD SWAT armored vehicle is hit with a missile] Oh my God, the quarterback is TOAST!
John McClane: You throw quite a party. I didn't realize they celebrated Christmas in Japan.
Joseph Takagi: Hey, we're flexible. Pearl Harbor didn't work out so we got you with tape decks.
Joseph Takagi: You want money? What kind of terrorists are you?
Hans Gruber: Who said we were terrorists?
John McClane: [McClane watches fire trucks approach the building] C'mon baby, come ta' papa, I'll kiss ya' fuckin' dalmatian.
John McClane: [stealing Tony's shoes] Nine million terrorists in the world and I gotta kill one with feet smaller than my sister.
Supervisor: [as McClane tries to call up police] Attention, whoever you are, this channel is reserved for emergency calls only.
John McClane: No fucking shit, lady. Does it sound like I'm ordering a pizza?
Hans Gruber: [Reading what McClane wrote on the dead terrorist's shirt] "Now I have a machine gun. Ho ho ho."
Hans Gruber: [Hans' radio turns on] I thought I told all of you, I want radio silence until further...
John McClane: Ooooh, I'm very sorry Hans. I didn't get that message. Maybe you should've put it on the bulletin board. I figured since I've waxed Tony and Marco and his friend here, I figured you and Karl and Franco might be a little lonely, so I wanted to give you a call.
Karl: How does he know so much about th...
Hans Gruber: [silences Karl him with a gesture] That's very kind of you. I assume you are our mysterious party crasher. You are most troublesome, for a security guard.
John McClane: Eeeh! Sorry Hans, wrong guess. Would you like to go for Double Jeopardy where the scores can really change?
[speaking to dead man about cigarettes]
John McClane: Whoa, these are very bad for you.
Hans Gruber: Who are you then?
John McClane: Just a fly in the ointment, Hans. The monkey in the wrench. The pain in the ass.
Hans Gruber: [on the radio] Mr. Mystery Guest? Are you still there?
John McClane: Yeah, I'm still here. Unless you wanna open the front door for me.
Hans Gruber: Uh, no, I'm afraid not. But, you have me at a loss. You know my name but who are you? Just another American who saw too many movies as a child? Another orphan of a bankrupt culture who thinks he's John Wayne? Rambo? Marshal Dillon?
John McClane: Was always kinda partial to Roy Rogers actually. I really like those sequined shirts.
Hans Gruber: Do you really think you have a chance against us, Mr. Cowboy?
John McClane: Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker.
Hans Gruber: "And when Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer." Benefits of a classical education.
Dwayne T. Robinson: We don't know shit, Powell. If there's hostages, how come nobody's come to us with ransom demands, huh? If there's terrorists in there, where's their list of demands? All we know is that somebody shot your car up. It's probably the same silly son of a bitch you've been talking to on that radio.
Sergeant Al Powell: Excuse me, sir! But what about the body that fell out the window?
Dwayne T. Robinson: Well, who knows? Probably some stockbroker, got depressed.
Sergeant Al Powell: [about McClane] In fact, I think he's a cop. Maybe not LAPD, but he's definitely a badge.
Dwayne T. Robinson: How do you know that?
Sergeant Al Powell: A hunch, things he said. Like being able to spot a phony ID.
Dwayne T. Robinson: Jesus Christ, Powell, he could be a fucking bartender for all we know.
Hans Gruber: [addressing the hostages] I wanted this to be professional, efficient, adult, cooperative. Not a lot to ask. Alas, your Mr. Takagi did not see it that way... so he won't be joining us for the rest of his life. We can go any way you want it. You can walk out of here or be carried out. But have no illusions. We are in charge. So, decide now, each of you. And please remember: we have left nothing to chance.
Hans Gruber: [during a shootout with McClane, who is barefoot] Karl, schieß dem Fenster
Hans Gruber: [Karl gives Hans a puzzled look. Exasperated, Hans repeats it in English] *Shoot* the *glass!
Tony: The fire has been called off, my friend. No one is coming to help you. You might as well come out and join the others. I promise I won't hurt you.
John McClane: [huddled in an air vent, recalls his wife's invitation] "Come out to the coast, we'll get together, have a few laughs..."
John McClane: Let's see you take *this* under advisement, jerkweed!
FBI Agent Johnson: I'm Agent Johnson, this is Special Agent Johnson.
Dwayne T. Robinson: Oh, how you doin'?
FBI Agent Johnson: No relation.
Hans Gruber: This time John Wayne does not walk off into the sunset with Grace Kelly.
John McClane: That was Gary Cooper, asshole.
FBI Special Agent Johnson: Figure we take out the terrorists. Lose twenty, twenty-five percent of the hostages, tops.
FBI Agent Johnson: I can live with that.
Holly Gennero McClane: After all your posturing, all your little speeches, you're nothing but a common thief.
Hans Gruber: I am an exceptional thief, Mrs. McClane. And since I'm moving up to kidnapping, you should be more polite.
Dwayne T. Robinson: We're gonna need some more FBI guys, I guess.
John McClane: [while crawling through a narrow ventilation shaft] Now I know what a TV dinner feels like.
Convenience Store Clerk: [Powell with an armload of Twinkies] I thought you guys just ate doughnuts.
Sergeant Al Powell: Heh. They're for my wife.
Convenience Store Clerk: [sarcastically] Yeah.
Sergeant Al Powell: She's pregnant.
Convenience Store Clerk: Yeah.
Sergeant Al Powell: Bag it.
Convenience Store Clerk: Big time.
Holly Gennero McClane: I have a request.
Hans Gruber: What idiot put you in charge?
Holly Gennero McClane: You did. When you murdered my boss. Now everybody's looking to me. Personally, I'd pass on the job. I don't enjoy being this close to you.
Theo: [as the SWAT Team closes in]
[over the CB]
Theo: All right, listen up guys. 'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, except... the four assholes coming in the rear in standard two-by-two cover formation.
Hans Gruber: Now, you can break the code?
Theo: You didn't bring me along for my charming personality.
John McClane: Welcome to the party, pal.
Hans Gruber: Touching, Cowboy, touching. Or should I call you, Mr. McClane? Mr. Officer John McClane of the New York Police Department?
Richard Thornburg: Get on the phone to Harry in New York. Come on, baby, move, move.
Thornburg's Assistant: Got it.
Sergeant Al Powell: Better get a hold of somebody in dispatch.
John McClane: Sister Teresa called me Mr. McClane in the third grade. My friends call me John, and you're neither, shit-head.
Hans Gruber: I have someone who wants to talk to you; a very special friend who was with you at the party tonight.
Harry Ellis: [Hans hands him the walkie talkie] Hey, John boy.
John McClane: Ellis?
Harry Ellis: Yeah. Now listen, John, they're giving me a few minutes to try to talk some sense into you. I know you think you're doing your job, John, and I can appreciate that, but, you're just dragging this thing out. Now look, no one gets outta here until these guys can talk to the *LA* police, and that just ain't gonna happen until you stop messin' up the works, capisci?
John McClane: Ellis, what have you told them?
Harry Ellis: I told 'em we were old friends and you were my guest at the party.
John McClane: Ellis, you shouldn't be doin' this.
Harry Ellis: Tell me about it. Alright, John, listen. They want you to tell them where the detonators are. They know people are listening. They want the detonators or they're gonna kill me.
Harry Ellis: John, didn't you hear me?
John McClane: Yeah, I hear you.
Harry Ellis: Hey, John, I think you can get with the program a little, huh? The police are here now, it's their problem. Now tell these guys where the detonators are so no one else gets hurt, you know I'm putting my life on the line for you, pal.
John McClane: Ellis, listen to me very carefully.
Harry Ellis: John?
John McClane: Shut up Ellis, just shut your mouth! Put Hans back on the line.
[Ellis holds the walkie talkie up]
John McClane: Hans, this shit-head does not know what kind of man you are, but I do. Listen to me!
Hans Gruber: Good. Then, you'll give us what we want and save your friend's life. You're not part of this equation this time, you realize that.
[presents his gun]
Harry Ellis: Hey, what am I, a method actor? Hans, babe, put away the gun, this is radio, not television.
John McClane: [nervously yelling] Hans, this asshole is not my friend, I just met him tonight, I don't know him. Jesus Christ, Ellis these people are gonna kill you, tell them, you don't know me.
Harry Ellis: John, how can you say that after all these years, huh? John?
[gets no response]
Harry Ellis: John?
[still gets no response, then laughs slightly, then Hans shoots him in the head]
Hans Gruber: [he puts the walkie talkie up to the screaming crowd, then yells into the walkie talkie] You hear that? Talk to me, where are my detonators? Where are they, or shall I shoot another one? Sooner or later, I might get to someone you *do* care about!
John McClane: Go fuck yourself, Hans.
Karl: No one kills him but me!
Dwayne T. Robinson: Did you hear that? He just let the guy die, man. He just gave him up. Gimme that headset. That's like pullin' the trigger yourself.
Sergeant Al Powell: Christ, man. Can't you see what's happening? Can't you read between the lines?
Dwayne T. Robinson: Cold. This on the right channel?
Cop: Yes, sir.
Sergeant Al Powell: He did everything he could to save him. If he gave himself up, they'd both be dead right now.
Dwayne T. Robinson: Oh, no way, man, no way. They'd be talking to us. Listen, you tell this partner of yours, Powell, to stay the hell out of this from now on, do you hear me? Because, if he doesn't, I'm gonna nail him, boy. I'm really gonna nail his ass, now, believe me.
Sergeant Al Powell: The man is hurting! He is alone, tired, and he hasn't seen diddly-squat from anybody down here. Now you're gonna stand there and tell me that he's gonna give a damn about what you do to him, *if* he makes it out of there alive? Why don't you wake up and smell what you shoveling?
Dwayne T. Robinson: You listen to me, Sergeant. Any time you wanna go home, you consider yourself dismissed.
Sergeant Al Powell: No, sir. You couldn't drag me away.
Sergeant Al Powell: I shot a kid. He was 13 years old. Ohhh, it was dark, I couldn't see him. He had a ray gun, looked real enough. You know, when you're a rookie, they can teach you everything about bein' a cop except how to live with a mistake. Anyway, I just couldn't bring myself to draw my gun on anybody again.
Hans Gruber: Nice suit. John Phillips, London. I have two myself. Rumor has it Arafat buys his there.
Dwayne T. Robinson: [Watching Hans fall to his death from the 30th floor] Oh, I hope that's not a hostage.
Ginny: [Karl smashes a table of glasses in fury] God. That man looks *really* pissed.
Holly Gennero McClane: He's still alive.
Holly Gennero McClane: Only John can drive somebody that crazy.
Big Johnson: [flying in the chopper to the roof] Just like fuckin' Saigon, hey, Slick?
Little Johnson: [smiling] I was in junior high, dickhead.
FBI Special Agent Johnson: [on the phone] This is agent Johnson. No, the other one.
Hans Gruber: I'm going to count to three, there will not be a four. Give me the code.
John McClane: [after McClane sets off massive explosion] Is the building on fire?
Sergeant Al Powell: No, but it's gonna need a paint job and a shit load of screen doors.
John McClane: Merry Christmas, Argyle.
Argyle: Merry Christmas.
Richard Thornburg: [to the camera] Did ya get that?
Argyle: [Argyle shuts the limo door] If this is their idea of Christmas, I *gotta* be here for New Year's.
Theo: [Hans, Theo, and Kristoff stare in awe as the vault opens] Merry Christmas.
John McClane: [after witnessing Mr. Takagi's murder]
[talking to himself]
John McClane: Why the fuck didn't you stop 'em, John? 'Cause then you'd be dead, too, asshole.
John McClane: So that's is what this is about, Hans? A fucking robbery?
Hans Gruber: Put down the gun.
John McClane: Why'd you have to nuke the whole building, Hans?
Hans Gruber: Well, when you steal $600, you can just disappear. When you steal 600 million, they will find you, unless they think you're already dead.
John McClane: You'd have made a pretty good cowboy yourself, Hans.
Hans Gruber: Oh, yes. What was it you said to me before? "Yippie-ki-yay, motherfucker."
John McClane: [John is fighting Karl] You should have heard your brother squeal when I broke his fucking neck.
Harry Ellis: [Trying to get the German Terrorist's attention] Hey, sprechen ze talk?
Takagi: [Hans is threatening to kill Takagi if he doesn't divulge the code to the vault] I don't know it, I'm telling you. Get on a jet to Tokyo and ask the Chairman. I'm telling you, you're just going to have to kill me.
Hans Gruber: Okay.
[shoots Takagi in the head]
Hans Gruber: We do it the hard way.
Dwayne T. Robinson: I've got a hundred people down here, and they're covered with glass.
John McClane: Glass? Who gives a shit about glass? Who the fuck is this?
Dwayne T. Robinson: This is Deputy Chief of Police, Dwayne T. Robinson, and I am in charge of this situation.
John McClane: Oh, you're in charge? Well, I got some bad news for you *Dwayne*, from up here it doesn't look like you're in charge of jack shit.
Dwayne T. Robinson: You listen to me, you little asshole, I'm...
John McClane: Asshole? I'm not the one who just got butt-fucked on national TV, *Dwayne*. Now, you listen to me, jerk-off, if you're not a part of the solution, you're a part of the problem. Quit being a part of the fucking problem and put the other guy back on!
Argyle: Well, why didn't you come with her man? What's up?
John McClane: 'Cause I'm a New York cop. I got a six-month backlog on New York scumbags I'm still trying to put behind bars. I can't just pick up and go that easy.
John McClane: [McClane, before jumping from the roof] I promise I will never even *think* about going up in a tall building again. Oh, God. Please don't let me die.
Hans: [Hans uses McClane's gun and says something in an uninterpreted German on his CB Radio] Put down the gun, and give me my detonators.
John McClane: Well, well, well... Hans.
Hans: Put it down now.
John McClane: That's pretty tricky with that accent. You oughta be on fucking TV with that accent. But what do you want with the detonators, Hans? I already used all the explosives. Or did I?
Hans: I'm going to count to three...
John McClane: Yeah, like you did with Takagi?
John McClane: [Hans pulls trigger] Ooops.
[Hans pulls the trigger a few times more]
John McClane: No more bullets. What do you think, I'm fucking stupid, Hans?
Hans: [elevator opens] You were saying?
Hans: Mr. Takagi, I could talk about industrialization and men's fashion all day, but I'm afraid work must intrude, and my associate, Theo, has some questions for you. Sort of fill in the blanks questions, actually.
John McClane: Drop it, dickhead. It's the police.
Tony: You won't hurt me.
John McClane: Oh, yeah? Why not?
Tony: Because you're a policeman. There are rules for policemen.
John McClane: Yeah. That's what my captain keeps telling me.
John McClane: Geronimo, Motherfucker!
Hans: The following people are to be released from their captors: In Northern Ireland, the seven members of the New Provo Front. In Canada, the five imprisoned leaders of Liberte de Quebec. In Sri Lanka, the nine members of the Asian Dawn movement...
John McClane: [listening on the radio] What the fuck?
Karl: [mouthing silently] Asian Dawn?
Hans: [covers the radio] I read about them in Time magazine.
Gail Wallens: Author of "Hostage Terrorist, Terrorist Hostage: A Study in Duality." Dr. Hasseldorf, what can we expect in the next few hours?
Dr. Hasseldorf: Well, Gail, by this time the hostages should be going through the early stages of the Helsinki Syndrome.
Harvey Johnson: As in Helsinki, Sweden.
Dr. Hasseldorf: Finland.
John McClane: Happy trails, Hans.
Karl: [holding a gun to McClane's head, takes his radio] We are both professionals. This is personal.
[smashes the radio]
Fritz: They're using artillery on us!
Hans Gruber: You idiot, it's not the police. It's *him*!
[referring to McClane]
John McClane: [Tying fire hose around his waist] Oh, John, what the fuck are you doing? How the fuck did you get into this shit?
John McClane: But, all things being equal, I'd rather be in Philadelphia.
Hans Gruber: [after bad guys hit police ram with rocket]
[in radio to bad guys]
Hans Gruber: Hit it, again.
John McClane: [in radio to Hans] Hans you motherfucker, you made your point! Let them pull back!
Hans Gruber: [in radio to McClaine] Thank you, Mr. Cowboy, I'll take it under advisement.
[to bad guys]
Hans Gruber: *Hit it, again.*
John McClane: [fighting Karl] You motherfucker, I'm gonna kill you! I'm gonna fuckin' cook you, and I'm gonna fucking eat you!
Argyle: Just remember that when you sign for the tip.
FBI Agent Johnson: [referring to McClane] He's inside? Who is he?
Dwayne T. Robinson: Well, he might be a cop. I don't know, we're checking on that.
FBI Special Agent Johnson: One of yours?
Dwayne T. Robinson: No. No way.
John McClane: These guys are mostly European judging by their clothing labels and...
John McClane: cigarettes. They're well-financed and very slick.
Sergeant Al Powell: Well, now, how do you know that?
John McClane: I've seen enough phony ID's in my time to recognize that the ones they got must have cost a fortune. Add all that up, I don't know what the fuck it means, but you got some bad-ass perpetrators and they're here to stay.
Sergeant Al Powell: I hear ya, partner. And L.A.'s finest are on it.
Sergeant Al Powell: [after the FBI cuts the power to the building] Well, what are we gonna do now? Arrest them for not paying their electric bill?
FBI Agent Johnson: We've shut them down. We let 'em sweat for a while, then... we give 'em helicopters.
FBI Special Agent Johnson: Right up the ass.
FBI Special Agent Johnson: Authorization? How about the United States FUCKING government? Lose the grid, or you lose your job.
Harry Ellis: [watching the terrorists in deep discussion] What do you think?
Holly Gennero McClane: Something's wrong.
Harry Ellis: Cops?
Holly Gennero McClane: [pauses] John.
Harry Ellis: John? Aw, Christ, he can fuck this whole thing up! What does he think he's doing?
Holly Gennero McClane: His job.
Harry Ellis: Bullshit! His job's three thousand miles away. Without him, we still have a chance we might be able to get outta here.
Holly Gennero McClane: Tell that to Takagi.
Hans Gruber: The circuits that cannnot be cut are cut automatically in response to a terrorist incident. You asked for miracles, Theo, I give you the FBI.
Hans Gruber: When they touch down, we'll blow the roof, they'll spend a month sifting through rubble, and by the time they figure out what went wrong, we'll be sitting on a beach, earning twenty percent.
John McClane: Son of a bitch! Fist with your toes.
John McClane: Who's driving this car, Stevie Wonder?
John McClane: [cops start coming towards the building] You macho assholes, no, no!
Theo: [sees LAPD SWAT armored vehicle approaching] Wait a minute, wait a minute. What have we here, gentlemen? The police have themselves an RV. Southeast corner.
John McClane: [after entering the room where Gruber retains Holly] Hi, honey.
Cop: Sir, the FBI is here.
Dwayne T. Robinson: Oh, the FBI is here, now?
Cop: Yes, sir. Right over there.
Dwayne T. Robinson: Hold this.
[straightens his jacket]
Sergeant Al Powell: Want a breath mint?
Hans: Mrs. McClane. How nice to make your acquaintance.
John McClane: [upon seeing Marco arrive, suspense music plays] Freeze m*th*rf*cker!
Marco: [panicking] Oh God! Don't shoot! Don't shoot!
John McClane: Drop the gun!
Marco: [starts to do so] Ok! But don't shoot! Don't shoot!
John McClane: Put it on the ground!
Marco: [still doing so but very slowly] I know! But don't shoot! Don't shoot!
Heinrich: [music changes to a climatic theme as Heinrich comes in] Marco duck!
Marco: [John easily shoots Heinrich but Marco manages to take cover. John then hides under a long conference table]
[after a quick scene change Marco is on the table shooting it as he walks down it]
Marco: You a dog now. Where you going pal? Soon there will be no more table.
[empties his clip and jams a fresh one in]
Marco: Next time you have a chance to kill someone, don't hesitate.
[prepares to start shooting again when... ]
John McClane: [fires upwards several times riddling Marco with bullets. Marco drops dead on the table with bullets and wood splinters in him] Thanks for the advice, pal.
John McClane: [Getting out a pack of cigarettes] Do you smoke?
Hans Gruber: [while mimicing a hostage] Yeah.
[McClane hands him the pack of cigarettes]
Hans Gruber: Thanks. Now, you don't work for Nakatomi, and you're not one of them.
John McClane: I'm a cop from New York.
Hans Gruber: New York?
John McClane: Yeah. I got invited to the Christmas party by mistake. Who knew.
John McClane: Better being caught with your pants down, huh? I'm John McClane, and you are?
Hans Gruber: [Quickly thinks of a name which he got from a nearby Bulletin board] Clay. Bill Clay.
John McClane: [Takes out his handgun] You now how to use a handgun, Bill?
Hans Gruber: I spent a weekend at a combat ranch. You know where they shoot red paint, but it sounds stupid to you.
John McClane: Well, time for the real thing, Bill. All you gotta do is pull the trigger.
Harry Ellis: I hope I'm not interrupting anything.
Hans Gruber: What does he want?
Harry Ellis: It's not what I want, it's what I can give you.
Harry Ellis: Well, I've watched 60 Minutes, and I'm saying to myself, they're motivated, they're happening, I.E. they want something. Maybe it's because you're pissed off or maybe it's the jockies, it's none of my business.
Hans Gruber: Very good, you've figured it out already.
Harry Ellis: Hey, business is business. You use a gun, I use a fountain pen what's the difference? Let's put it in my terms, you're in a hostile takeover, you snatch us up for some green mail, but you're not expecting some poison pill to be running around the building, am I right? Hans, *booby* I'm your white knight.
Hans Gruber: [Looking puzzled] I must have missed 60 Minutes. What are you saying?
Harry Ellis: You know that guy that's fucking things up upstairs,
Harry Ellis: *I* can give him to you.
Hans Gruber: Due to the Nakatomi Corporation's legacy of greed around the globe, they are about to be taught a lesson in the real use of power. You will be witnesses.
Hans Gruber: If you'd listened to me, he would be neutralised already.
Karl: I don't want neutral. I want dead.
[Karl and Theo pull up in their car and come through the revolving door]
Theo: So Kareem rebounds, right? Feeds Worthy on the break, over to A.C., to Magic, then back to Worthy! Right?
[Karl shoots and kills the desk guard with a perfectly timed aim]
Theo: BOOM! Two points!
[Theo jumps over the desk and pushes the guard's body down, then grabs his walkie-talkie]
Theo: We're in.
John McClane: [after being kissed on the face by a stranger on a party] Jesus! Fuckin' California!
Sergeant Al Powell: [over radio] Hey, John? John McClane you still with us?
John McClane: Yeah. But all things being equal, I'd rather be in Philadelphia. Chalk up two more bad guys.
[Begins removing glass from foot]
Sergeant Al Powell: Well, the boys down here will be glad to hear that. You know we got a pool going on you.
John McClane: What kind of odds am I getting?
Sergeant Al Powell: You don't wanna know.
John McClane: Put me down for twenty, I'm good for it.
[pulls shard of glass from foot]
John McClane: . Hey pal, you got flat feet?
Sergeant Al Powell: What the hell you talking about, man.
John McClane: Something had to get you off the street.
Sergeant Al Powell: What's the matter? You don't think jockeying papers around a desk is a noble effort for a cop?
John McClane: No...
Sergeant Al Powell: I had an accident.
John McClane: The way you drive, I can see why. What'd you do? Run over your captains foot with the car?
Sergeant Al Powell: I shot a kid. He was 13 years old. Oh, it was dark, I couldn't see him, he had a ray gun, looked real enough. You know when you're a rookie they can teach you everything about being a cop, except how to live with a mistake. Anyway, I just couldn't bring myself to draw my gun on anyone again.
John McClane: ...Sorry man.