Dean Spanley (2008)
Fisk Senior: There's no point to regretting things that have gone to the trouble of happening
Fisk Senior: Very handy, Thursday. Keeps Wednesday and Friday from colliding.
Wrather: It's the little things that try us, said the man of the pygmy judge.
Fisk Junior: Now, there is a lecture by one Swami Nala Prash. About the transmigration of souls.
Fisk Senior: Poppycock! Think if we had souls they wouldn't get in touch? 'course they would! Think your mother wouldn't be on to me about that garden? 'course she would!
Fisk Senior: Do not presume to judge me, young Fisk.
Fisk Junior: I should first have to understand you, father. And that, I confess, I do not.
Fisk Senior: Perhaps you would have to become a father first.
Fisk Junior: Your example disinclines me to that particular comprehension I'm afraid.
Fisk Junior: If I were to tell you, you wouldn't believe me.
Fisk Senior: Then by all means don't tell me, I don't believe in enough things already.
Fisk Junior: Do you believe in the transmigration of souls, Mrs. Brimley?
Mrs Brimley: I don't believe in letting foreigners in, if that's what you mean.
Fisk Senior: Let's go to my club. Have a stiff one.
Fisk Junior: I thought you didn't go there anymore.
Fisk Senior: That was in the past. This is the present, young Fisk. There's no time like the present as that Swami calls it. What was it? The eternal now.
Fisk Senior: What about him pinching my line?
Dean Spanley: What line Sir?
Fisk Senior: The anteroom of eternity.
Dean Spanley: I rather thought that common usage.
Fisk Senior: Not at all. Out of my own head that came. Rather like having your pocket picked.
Mrs Brimley: Sat in that chair night after night, never said a word.
Mrs Brimley: Just nodded, sociable-like, and spat in the fire every now and again.
Mrs Brimley: That were Albert's one bad habit.
Mrs Brimley: I talk to the chair sometimes and it's just like old times.
Mrs Brimley: Except the chair don't spit.