Good Will Hunting (1997)
Sean: Thought about what you said to me the other day, about my painting. Stayed up half the night thinking about it. Something occurred to me... fell into a deep peaceful sleep, and haven't thought about you since. Do you know what occurred to me?
Sean: You're just a kid, you don't have the faintest idea what you're talkin' about.
Will: Why thank you.
Sean: It's all right. You've never been out of Boston.
Sean: So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, "once more unto the breach dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. And look at you... I don't see an intelligent, confident man... I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you're a genius Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine, and you ripped my fucking life apart. You're an orphan right?
Sean: You think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you are, because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally... I don't give a shit about all that, because you know what, I can't learn anything from you, I can't read in some fuckin' book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. Then I'm fascinated. I'm in. But you don't want to do that do you sport? You're terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.
Sean: You're not perfect, sport, and let me save you the suspense: this girl you've met, she's not perfect either. But the question is whether or not you're perfect for each other.
Will: Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but I'll take a shot. Say I'm working at N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, 'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never met, never had no problem with, get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Oh, send in the Marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number got called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some kid from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes back to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile, he realizes the only reason he was over there in the first place was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And, of course, the oil companies used the skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices. A cute little ancillary benefit for them, but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. And they're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, of course, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and fuckin' play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So now my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's got to walk to the fuckin' job interviews, which sucks 'cause the shrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starvin', 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat, the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what did I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. I figure fuck it, while I'm at it why not just shoot my buddy, take his job, give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president.
Will: What do I wanna way outta here for? I'm gonna live here the rest of my fuckin' life. We'll be neighbors, have little kids, take 'em to Little League up at Foley Field.
Chuckie: Look, you're my best friend, so don't take this the wrong way but, in 20 years if you're still livin' here, comin' over to my house, watchin' the Patriots games, workin' construction, I'll fuckin' kill ya. That's not a threat, that's a fact, I'll fuckin' kill ya.
Will: What the fuck you talkin' about?
Chuckie: You got somethin' none of us have...
Will: Oh, come on! What? Why is it always this? I mean, I fuckin' owe it to myself to do this or that. What if I don't want to?
Chuckie: No. No, no no no. Fuck you, you don't owe it to yourself man, you owe it to me. Cuz tomorrow I'm gonna wake up and I'll be 50, and I'll still be doin' this shit. And that's all right. That's fine. I mean, you're sittin' on a winnin' lottery ticket. And you're too much of a pussy to cash it in, and that's bullshit. 'Cause I'd do fuckin' anything to have what you got. So would any of these fuckin' guys. It'd be an insult to us if you're still here in 20 years. Hangin' around here is a fuckin' waste of your time.
Will: So, when did you know, like, that she was the one for you?
Sean: October 21st, 1975.
Will: Jesus Christ. You know the fuckin' date?
Sean: Oh yeah. 'Cause it was Game 6 of the World Series. Biggest game in Red Sox history.
Will: Yeah, sure.
Sean: My friends and I had, you know, slept out on the sidewalk all night to get tickets.
Will: You got tickets?
Sean: Yep. Day of the game. I was sittin' in a bar, waitin' for the game to start, and in walks this girl. Oh, it was an amazing game, though. You know, bottom of the eighth, Carbo ties it up at 6-6. It went to twelve. Bottom of the twelfth, in stepped Carlton Fisk. Old Pudge. Steps up to the plate, you know, and he's got that weird stance.
Will: Yeah, yeah.
Sean: And BAM! He clocks it. High fly ball down the left field line! Thirty-five thousand people, on their feet, yellin' at the ball, but that's not because of Fisk. He's wavin' at the ball like a madman.
Will: Yeah, I've seen...
Sean: He's going, "Get over! Get over! Get OVER!" And then it HITS the foul pole. OH, he goes apeshit, and 35,000 fans, you know, they charge the field, you know?
Will: Yeah, and he's fuckin' bowlin' police out of the way!
Sean: Goin', "God! Get out of the way! Get 'em away!" Banging people...
Will: I can't fuckin' believe you had tickets to that fuckin' game!
Will: Did you rush the field?
Sean: [surprised at the question] No, I didn't rush the fuckin' field; I wasn't there.
Sean: No - I was in a bar havin' a drink with my future wife.
Will: You missed Pudge Fisk's home run?
Sean: Oh, yeah.
Will: To have a fuckin' drink with some lady you never met?
Sean: Yeah, but you shoulda seen her; she was a stunner.
Will: I don't care if Helen of Troy walks in the room, that's Game 6!
Sean: Oh, Helen of Troy...
Will: Oh my God; and who are these fuckin' friends of yours, they let you get away with that?
Sean: Oh... they had to.
Will: W-w-w-what'd you say to them?
Sean: I just slid my ticket across the table, and I said, "Sorry, guys; I gotta see about a girl."
Will: I gotta go see about a girl?
Will: That's what you said? And they let you get away with that?
Sean: Oh, yeah. They saw in my eyes that I meant it.
Will: You're kiddin' me.
Sean: No, I'm not kiddin' you, Will. That's why I'm not talkin' right now about some girl I saw at a bar twenty years ago and how I always regretted not going over and talking to her. I don't regret the 18 years I was married to Nancy. I don't regret the six years I had to give up counseling when she got sick. And I don't regret the last years when she got really sick. And I sure as hell don't regret missin' the damn game. That's regret.
Will: Wow... Woulda been nice to catch that game, though.
Sean: [sheepishly] I didn't know Pudge was gonna hit a homer.
Chuckie: Every day I come by your house and I pick you up. And we go out. We have a few drinks, and a few laughs, and it's great. But you know what the best part of my day is? For about ten seconds, from when I pull up to the curb and when I get to your door, 'cause I think, maybe I'll get up there and I'll knock on the door and you won't be there. No goodbye. No see you later. No nothing. You just left. I don't know much, but I know that.
Chuckie: Are we gonna have a problem here?
Clark: No, no, no, no! There's no problem here. I was just hoping you might give me some insight into the evolution of the market economy in the southern colonies. My contention is that prior to the Revolutionary War, the economic modalities, especially in the southern colonies, could be most aptly described as agrarian pre-capitalist.
Will: Of course that's your contention. You're a first-year grad student; you just got finished reading some Marxian historian, Pete Garrison probably. You're gonna be convinced of that 'till next month when you get to James Lemon. Then you're going to be talking about how the economies of Virginia and Pennsylvania were entrepreneurial and capitalist way back in 1740. That's gonna last until next year; you're gonna be in here regurgitating Gordon Wood, talkin' about, you know, the pre-revolutionary utopia and the capital-forming effects of military mobilization.
Clark: Well, as a matter of fact, I won't, because Wood drastically underestimates the impact of social...
Will: "Wood drastically underestimates the impact of social distinctions predicated upon wealth, especially inherited wealth"? You got that from Vickers' "Work in Essex County," page 98, right? Yeah, I read that too. Were you gonna plagiarize the whole thing for us? Do you have any thoughts of your own on this matter? Or do you, is that your thing, you come into a bar, read some obscure passage and then pretend - you pawn it off as your own, as your own idea just to impress some girls, embarrass my friend?
Will: See, the sad thing about a guy like you is, in 50 years you're gonna start doin' some thinkin' on your own and you're going to come up with the fact that there are two certainties in life: one, don't do that, and two, you dropped 150 grand on a fuckin' education you could have got for a dollar fifty in late charges at the public library!
Clark: Yeah, but I will have a degree. And you'll be servin' my kids fries at a drive-thru on our way to a skiing trip.
Will: That may be, but at least I won't be unoriginal. But I mean, if you have a problem with that, I mean, we could just step outside - we could figure it out.
Clark: No, man, there's no problem. It's cool.
Sean: Real loss is only possible when you love something more than you love yourself.
Will: Do you like apples?
Will: Well, I got her number. How do you like them apples?
Billy: You're legally allowed to drink now, so we figured the best thing for you was a car.
Will: [Sean is going through Will's profile. Inside we see are pictures of Will after brutal assaults by his foster parents] You ever have any, uh, experience with that?
Sean: Twenty years of counseling, I've seen some pretty awful shit.
Will: No. I mean, have you ever had any experience with that?
Sean: Personally? Yeah. Yeah I have.
[Sean looks away for a moment]
Sean: I'm sure it ain't good.
Will: My father was an alcoholic. Mean fuckin' drunk. Used to come home hammered, looking to whale on someone. So I had to provoke him, so he wouldn't go after my mother and little brother. Interesting nights were when he wore his rings...
Will: He used to just put a belt, a stick, and a wrench on the kitchen table and say, "Choose."
Sean: Well, I gotta go with the belt there.
Will: I used to go with the wrench.
Will: Cause fuck him, that' why.
Sean: Your foster father?
Will: So what does it say? Will has an attachment disorder? Fear of abandonment? Is that why I broke up with Skylar?
Sean: Didn't know you had. Wanna talk about it?
[Will shakes his head, stares off]
Sean: Will, you see this, all this shit?
[Holds up the file, and drops it on his desk]
Sean: It's not your fault.
Will: [Softly, still staring off] I know...
Sean: No you don't. It's not your fault.
Will: [Serious] I know.
Sean: No. Listen to me son. It's not your fault.
Will: I know that.
Sean: It's not your fault.
[Will is silent, eyes closed]
Sean: It's not your fault.
Will: [Will's eyes open, misty already] Don't fuck with me Sean. Not you.
Sean: It's not your fault.
[Will shoves Sean back, and then, hands trembling, buries his face in his hands. Will begins sobbing. Sean puts his hands on Will's shoulders, and Will grabs him and holds him close, crying]
Will: Oh my God! I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry Sean!
[Will continues sobbing in Sean's arms]
Sean: Thought about what you said to me the other day. About my painting.
Sean: Stayed up half the night thinking about it. Something occurred to me. I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep and haven't thought about you since. You know what occurred to me?
Sean: You're just a kid. You don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about.
Will: Why, thank you.
Sean: It's all right. You've never been out of Boston.
Sean: So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny... on every art book ever written. Michelangelo? You know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations. Him and the pope. Sexual orientation. The whole works, right? I bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling. Seeing that. If I ask you about women, you'll probably give me a syllabus of your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman... and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. I ask you about war, you'd probably ah throw Shakespeare at me, right? "Once more into the breach, dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap... and watched him gasp his last breath lookin' to you for help. If I asked you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet, but you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes. Feelin' like God put an angel on Earth just for you, who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her be there forever. Through anything. Through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleepin' sittin' up in a hospital room... for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes... that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself. I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. I look at you. I don't see an intelligent, confident man. I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you're a genius, Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine. You ripped my fuckin' life apart. You're an orphan, right? Do you think that I'd know the first thing about how hard your life has been - how you feel, who you are - because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally, I don't give a shit about all that, because - You know what? I can't learn anything from you... I can't read in some fuckin' book. Unless you wanna talk about you, who you are. And I'm fascinated. I'm in. But you don't wanna do that, do you sport? You're terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.
[Sean reads a note from Will: "Sean, if the Professor calls about that job, just tell him, sorry, I have to go see about a girl."]
Sean: Son of a bitch... He stole my line.
Will: Does this violate the doctor-patient relationship?
Sean: Not unless you grab my ass.
Sean: You'll have bad times, but it'll always wake you up to the good stuff you weren't paying attention to.
Lambeau: Most days I wish I'd never met you 'cause then I could sleep at night. I didn't have to walk around with the knowledge that there was someone like you out there. I didn't have to watch you throw it all away.
Sean: [yelling at Gerald] And why does he hang out with those retarded gorillas, as you called them? Because any one of them, if he asked them to, would take a fucking bat to your head, okay? It's called loyalty.
Skylar: What is your obsession with this money? My father died when I was 13 and I inherited this money. You don't think that every day I wake up and wish I could give it back? That I would give it back in a second if I could have one more day with him? But I can't, and that's my life and I deal with it. So don't put your shit on me when you're the one that's afraid.
Will: I'm afraid? What am I afraid of? What the fuck am I afraid of?
Skylar: You're afraid of me! You're afraid that I won't love you back! Fuck it, I wanna give it a shot! At least I'm honest with you.
Skylar: What if I said I wouldn't have sex with you again 'til I got to meet your friends; what would you say?
Will: I'd say it's 4:30 in the morning; they're probably up.
[he picks up Skylar's phone and begins dialing]
Skylar: [laughing] Men are shameless. If you're not thinking with your wiener, then you're acting directly on its behalf.
Will: Thank you.
Chuckie: [answering the phone at the other end] Eh! What the fuck?
Will: Nothing, Chuckie; go back to sleep.
[Will hangs up the phone]
Sean: If you ever disrespect my wife again, I will end you. I will fucking end you. You got that, chief?
Will: Time's up.
Sean: Maybe *you're* perfect right now. Maybe you don't wanna ruin that. I think that's a super philosophy, Will; that way you can go through your entire life without ever having to really know anybody...
Will: ...You ever think about gettin' remarried?
Sean: My wife's dead.
Will: Hence the word: remarried.
Sean: She's dead.
Will: Yeah; well, I think that's a super philosophy, Sean. I mean, that way you could actually go through the rest of your life without ever really knowing anybody.
Sean: Time's up.
Skylar: Maybe we could go out for coffee sometime?
Will: Great, or maybe we could go somewhere and just eat a bunch of caramels.
Will: When you think about it, it's just as arbitrary as drinking coffee.
Skylar: [laughs] Okay, sounds good.
Sean: I just have a little question here. You could be a janitor anywhere. Why did work at the most prestigious technical college in the whole fuckin' world? And why did you sneak around at night and finish other people's formulas that only one or two people in the world could do and then lie about it? 'Cause I don't see a lot of honor in that, Will.
Sean: People call those imperfections, but no, that's the good stuff.
Sean: You'll never have that kind of relationship in a world where you're afraid to take the first step because all you see is every negative thing 10 miles down the road.
Will: Beethoven, okay. He looked at a piano, and it just made sense to him. He could just play.
Skylar: So what are you saying? You play the piano?
Will: No, not a lick. I mean, I look at a piano, I see a bunch of keys, three pedals, and a box of wood. But Beethoven, Mozart, they saw it, they could just play. I couldn't paint you a picture, I probably can't hit the ball out of Fenway, and I can't play the piano.
Skylar: But you can do my o-chem paper in under an hour.
Will: Right. Well, I mean when it came to stuff like that... I could always just play.
Sean: [to his class] See you Monday. We'll be talking about Freud and why he did enough cocaine to kill a small horse.
Will: You know, I was on this plane once. And I'm sittin' there and the captain comes on and he does his whole, "We'll be cruising at 35,000 feet," then he puts the mike down but he forgets to turn it off. Then he turns to the copilot and goes, "You know, all I could go for right now is a fuckin' blow job and a cup of coffee." So the stewardess fuckin' goes bombin' up from the back of the plane to tell him the mic's still on, and this guy behind me goes, "Hey hon, don't forget the coffee!"
Skylar: Do you have lots of brothers and sisters?
Will: I'm Irish Catholic, what do you think?
Skylar: But how many?
Will: You wouldn't believe me if I told you.
Skylar: Why? Go on, what, 5? 7? 8? How many?
Will: I have 12 big brothers.
Skylar: You do not have 12 brothers.
Will: I swear to God, I swear to God, I'm lucky 13 right here.
Skylar: Do you know all their names?
Will: Do I... yeah, they're my brothers.
Skylar: What are they called?
Will: Marky, Ricky, Danny, Terry, Mikey, Davey, Timmy, Tommy, Joey, Robby, Johnny, and Brian.
Skylar: Say it again.
Will: Marky, Ricky, Danny, Terry, Mikey, Davey, Timmy, Tommy, Joey, Robby, Johnny, and Brian.
Skylar: ...and Willy.
Will: Willy? Will...
Chuckie: Christ, who did you call?
Will: No one. I forgot the number.
Morgan: You fuckin' retarded? You went all the way out there in the rain and you didn't bring the number?
Will: No, it was your mother's 900 number. I just ran out of quarters.
Morgan: Hey, how about we get off of mothers, alright? I just got off of yours!
Sean: Hey, Gerry, In the 1960s there was a young man that graduated from the University of Michigan. Did some brilliant work in mathematics. Specifically bounded harmonic functions. Then he went on to Berkeley. He was assistant professor. Showed amazing potential. Then he moved to Montana, and blew the competition away.
Lambeau: Yeah, so who was he?
Sean: Ted Kaczynski.
Lambeau: Haven't heard of him.
Sean: [yelling to the bartender] Hey, Timmy!
Sean: Who's Ted Kaczynski?
[Lambeau winces as he realizes the point Sean is making]
Sean: [about Will] He pushes people away before they get a chance to leave him. It's a defense mechanism. And for 20 years he's been alone because of that. And if you push him right now, it's gonna be the same thing all over again and I'm not gonna let that happen to him.
Sean: Do you have a soul mate?
Will: Define that.
Sean: Someone you can relate to, someone who opens things up for you.
Will: Sure, I got plenty.
Sean: Well, name them.
Will: Shakespeare, Nietzsche, Frost, O'Conner...
Sean: Well that's great. They're all dead.
Will: Not to me, they're not.
Sean: You can't have a lot of dialogue with them.
Will: Not without a heater and some serious smelling salts.
Will: I read your book last night.
Sean: So you're the one.
Lambeau: You're angry at me for doing what you could have done; but ask yourself, Sean. Ask yourself if you want Will to feel that way, if you want him to feel like a failure.
Sean: Oh, you arrogant shit! That's why I don't come to the goddamned reunions, 'cause I can't stand that look in your eye. Ya know, that condescending, embarrassed look. You think I'm a failure. I know who I am, and I'm proud of what I do. I was a conscientious choice, I didn't fuck up! And you and your cronies think I'm some sort of pity case. You and your kiss-ass chorus following you around going, "The Fields Medal! The Fields Medal!" Why are you still so fuckin' afraid of failure?
Skylar: You were hoping for a good night kiss.
Will: No, you know. I'll tell ya, I was hoping for a good night lay, but I'd settle for a good night kiss.
Skylar: [bursts out laughing] How very noble of you.
Will: Thank you... But I was, you know, hoping for a good night kiss.
Skylar: Well, let's just get it over with. Come on, come on.
[they have their first kiss, Skylar giggling the whole time]
Skylar: [after a few seconds, Skylar bursts out laughing] I think I got some of your pickle!
Morgan: Man, I can't believe you brought Skylar here when we're all fucking bombed and been drinking. What the fuck is she gonna think about us?
Will: Yeah, Morgan, it's a real rarity that we'd be out drinking.
Sean: I teach this shit, I didn't say I know how to do it.
Will: See, the sad thing about a guy like you is in 50 years you're gonna staht doin some thinkin on your own and you're gonna come up with the fact that there are two certaintees in life. One, don't do that. And Two, you dropped a hundred and fifty grand on a fuckin education you coulda got for a dollah fifty in late chahges at the public library
Sean: That's French for "club soda."
Chuckie: Morgan, I'm not going to Kelly's just because you like the takeout girl. It's fifteen minutes out of our way.
Morgan: What the fuck are we gonna do that we can't spare fifteen minutes?
Morgan: Double Burger.
Morgan: Chuck, I had a double burger!
Chuckie: Will you shut the fuck up? I know what you ordered, I was there.
Morgan: So give me my fucking sandwich.
Chuckie: What do you mean your sandwich? I bought it. Hey Morgan, how much money you got on you?
Morgan: I said I'd give you the change when we ordered the Sno-Cones when we pulled up, so why don't you give me my sandwich and stop being a prick.
Chuckie: Well why don't you give me your fucking sixteen cents you got on you and we'll put your sandwich on layaway. There you go, keep it right up here for you, We'll put you on a program. Everyday you bring your six cents and at the end of the week you'll get your sandwich.
Morgan: Why do you have to be such an asshole?
Chuckie: What am I, fuckin' sandwich welfare? I think you should establish a good line of credit. Like how you bought your couch, payment plans. Remember how your mother brought in $10 everyday for a year and she finally got her couch Rent-A-Center Style?
Morgan: Can I have my food now please?
Chuckie: [throws the burger at Morgan] Here's your fucking double burger!
Skylar: Well, let's see if you can get this one. I've got a little story for you. All right. There's an old couple in bed. Mary and Paddy. And they wake up on the morning their... fiftieth anniversary. And Mary looks over and gazes adoringly at Paddy, she's like, "Aw, Jesus, Paddy. You're such a good lookin' feller. I love you. I want to give you a little present. Anything your little heart desires, I'm going to give it to ya'. What would you like?" And Paddy's like, "Aw, gee, Mary, that's a very sweet offer. Now, in fifty years, there's one thing that's been missing. And uh... I would like you to give me a blow job. I would like that." And Mary's like, "All right." She takes her teeth out, puts them in the glass and she gives him a blow job. And afterwards, Paddy's like, "Ah, geez, now THAT's what I've been missin'. That was the most beautiful, Earth-shatterin' thing ever. Beautiful Mary, I love ya'! Is there anything that I can do for you?" And Mary looks up at him and she goes,
[letting beer spill out of her mouth]
Skylar: "Give us a kiss!"
Chuckie: [impersonating Will at a job interview] You're suspect! Yeah, you! I don't know what your reputation is in this town, but after the shit you tried to pull today you can bet I'll be looking into you. Now the business we have, heretofore, you can speak with my aforementioned attorney. Good day, gentlemen; and until that day comes, keep your ear to the grindstone.
Will: [talking to Skylar] What do you wanna know? That I don't have 12 brothers? That I'm a fuckin' orphan? You don't wanna hear that... no, you don't wanna hear that. You don't wanna hear that I got fuckin' cigarettes put out on me when I was a little kid! That this
[points to his left ribs]
Will: is 'cause the motherfucker stabbed me! You don't wanna hear that shit, Skylar. Tell me you don't wanna hear that shit isn't fuckin' surgery!
Morgan: ...and the heavy set girl said that I had a receding hair line and that I was a couple pounds overweight and I was like 'Go fuck yourself!'... I swallowed a bug.
Chuckie: Look - you're my best friend, so don't take this the wrong way. In twenty years, if you're still livin' here, comin' over to my house to watch the Patriots games, still workin' construction, I'll fuckin' kill you. That's not a threat; now, that's a fact. I'll fuckin' kill you.
Sean: Do you have a soul mate?
Will: Define that?
Sean: Someone you can relate to, someone who opens things up for you.
Will: Yeah, Chuckie.
Sean: [dismissing Will's choice] Chuckie's family; he would lie down in fucking traffic for you.
Chuckie: I didn't get on Cathy last night.
Will: Why not?
Chuckie: I don't know.
[yells across room]
Chuckie: Why didn't you give me none of that nasty little hoochie-woochie you usually throw at me?
Cathy: Oh, fuck you and your Irish curse, Chuckie. Like I'd waste my energy spreading my legs for that Tootsie Roll dick? So go home and give it a tug yourself.
Skylar: I can be in the NBA. I'm tall, I like to wear shorts. Hook! Hook! Dunk! Dunk! Baby, I'm all about three points.
Chuckie: So this is a Harvard bar, huh? I thought there'd be equations and shit on the wall.
Morgan: Hey, let's get off our motha's, afterall, I just got off yours!
Will: Do you buy all these books retail or do you send away for, like, a shrink kit that comes with all these volumes included?
Sean: Look, if you're gonna jerk off, why don't you do it at home with a moist towel?
Will: Do you play the piano?
Skylar: A bit.
Will: Okay, when you look at a piano you see Mozart, right?
Skylar: I see "Chopsticks."
Chuckie: Wait, Bill. Hold it. Did you hear that?
[Man moans upstairs]
Chuckie: Morgan! If you're watching pornos in my mom's room again, I'm gonna give you a fucking beating!
[Morgan runs downstairs]
Morgan: What's up fellas?
Billy: Morgan, why don't you jerk off in your own fucking house. Man, that's fucking filthy.
Morgan: I ain't got a VCR in my house.
Chuckie: Aw, c'mon, not on my glove.
Morgan: I didn't use the glove.
Chuckie: That's my Little League glove.
Morgan: What do you want me to do?
Chuckie: I mean, what's wrong with you? You'll hump a baseball glove?
Morgan: I was just using it for clean-up.
Chuckie: Stop jerking off in my mother's room!
Morgan: Ain't there another VCR in the house?
Chuckie: It's just sad bro.
Will: Maybe you haven't met the right woman?
Sean: [angered] Maybe you should watch your mouth. Watch it right there, Chief!
Will: Do you find it hard to hide the fact that you're gay?
Henry Lipkin: [stammers] What are... talking... about... What?
Will: Look, buddy, a few seconds ago you were ready to give *me* a jump!
Henry Lipkin: [feeling somewhat insulted] A jump? I... I'm terribly sorry... I...
Will: Hey, I don't have a problem with it. I don't care if you putt from the rough!
Henry Lipkin: Now, no more shenanigans, no more tomfoolery, no more ballyhoo.
Sean: I knew you before you were a mathematical god, when you were pimple-faced and homesick and didn't know what side of the bed to piss on!
Lambeau: Yeah, you were smarter than me then and you're smarter than me now. So don't blame me for how your life turned out. It's not my fault.
Lambeau: Yeah, you were smarter than me then, and you're smarter than me now. So, don't blame me for how your life turned out.
Sean: I don't blame you! It's not about you, you mathematical dick! It's about the boy! He's a good kid! And I won't see you fuck him up like you're trying to fuck up me right now! I won't let you make feel like a failure too!
Will: I didn't ask for this.
Sean: No, you were born with it. So don't cop out behind "I didn't ask for this".
Sean: There's honor, ya know, in taking that 40-minute so those college kids could come in the morning, and their floors are clean and their wastebaskets are empty. That's real work.
Will: That's right.
Sean: Right, and that's honorable. Sure, that's why you took that job. I mean, for the 'honor' of it.
Morgan: If you were gonna fight them, why didn't you fight them back there? We got snacks now!
Will: What the fuck do you want?
Lambeau: My name is Gerald Lambeau. The guy who you told to go fuck himself.
Will: Well, what the fuck do you want?
Sean: Put it on my tab
Tim: You ever plan on paying your tab?
Sean: Yeah, chief. I've got the winning lottery ticket right here.
Tim: What's the jackpot?
Sean: Twelve million.
Tim: I don't think that will cover it.
Sean: Yeah, but it'll cover your sex change operation!
Tom: [irritated that the janitor is being unhelpful] This is Professor Lambeau!
Head Janitor: [taking Tom's remark as snobbery, he motions to his assistant] And this is Professor Hays.
Lambeau: Mod fx... squared... dx. So please finish Parceval, by next time. I know many of you had this as undergraduates, but it won't hurt to brush up.
Chuckie: Hey asshole.
Will: What, bitch?
Chuckie: Happy birthday.
Sean: Do you like books?
Sean: [points to wall] Did you read any of these books?
Will: I don't know.
Sean: [points to shelf] How about any of these books?
Will: Probably not.
Sean: What about the ones on the top shelf? You read those?
Will: [looks] Yeah, I read those.
Sean: Good for you. What do you think about 'em?
Will: Hey, I'm not here for a fuckin' book report. They're your books. Why don't you read them?
Sean: I did. I had to.
Will: Must've taken you a long time.
Sean: Yeah, it did.
Lambeau: [attempting to prove to Sean that his interest in Will is not about fame] Tim, can you help us? We're trying to settle a bet.
Lambeau: Ever heard of Jonas Salk?
Tim: Sure, cured polio.
Lambeau: And you've heard of Albert Einstein?
Lambeau: How about Gerald Lambeau? Ever heard of him?
Lambeau: Thank you, Tim.
Tim: So, who won the bet?
Lambeau: I did.
[Tim walks off]
Lambeau: This isn't about me, Sean. I'm nothing compared to this young man.
Sean: You know what? You can shove your medal up your fucking ass! Because I don't give a shit about your medal. Because I knew you before you were a mathematical God. When you were pimple-faced and homesick and didn't know which side of the bed to piss on!
Lambeau: Yeah, you were smarter than me then and you're smarter than me now, so don't blame me for how your life turned out, it's not my fault.
Sean: I DON'T BLAME YOU! It's not about *you*, you mathematical dick!