Movie Quotes for 25th+Hour

Monty Brogan: Champagne for my real friends, and real pain for my
  sham friends.

Jakob Elinsky: What do we say to him?
Frank Slaughtery: We say nothin. The guys going to hell for seven
  years, what are going do wish him luck?

[Imagining an alternate ending for Monty]
James Brogan: And maybe one day, years from now, long after Im dead
  and gone, reunited with your dear mother, you gather your whole
  family together and tell them the truth, who you are, where you
  come from. You tell them the whole story. And then you ask them if
  they know how lucky they are to be there.

Jakob Elinsky: I kissed her.
Frank Slaughtery: You what?
Jakob Elinsky: My student. I, I kissed her.
Frank Slaughtery: Who are you trying to be... R. Kelly?

Frank Slaughtery: Fuck the Times. I read the Post.

Frank Slaughtery: You know what a man should never ask in a
  Victorias Secret shop, Jake?
Jakob Elinsky: What?
Frank Slaughtery: "Does this come in childrens sizes?"

Monty Brogan: No. No. Fuck you Montgomery Brogan. You had it all, and
  you threw it away, you dumb fuck!

Phelan: Uh, whats the big deal with the unemployment number anyway?
Frank Slaughtery: Fellan...
Phelan: Its, uh, Phelan.
Frank Slaughtery: Whatever. Look... More jobs means fewer people
  looking for work. Means its harder to find good people to fill
  those jobs. Means you gotta raise wages to get them. Means
  inflation goes up. You got it?
Phelan: Yeah.
Frank Slaughtery: No, I didnt think so. Thats why Im doing what
  Im doing and youre handing out junk mail.

Frank Slaughtery: You know, youre wearing a striped shirt with a
  striped tie, you know that, right?
Phelan: Yeah, I do it for the ladies.
Frank Slaughtery: Oh - the ladies ever tell you that you look like a
  fucking optical illusion?

[Monty standing in the mens bathroom, talking to himself in a mirror
  with a "FUCK YOU" written on it]
Monty Brogan: Well, fuck you, too. Fuck me, fuck you, fuck this whole
  city and everyone in it. Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money,
  and smiling at me behind my back. Fuck the squeegee men dirtying up
  the clean windshield of my car. Get a fucking job! Fuck the Sikhs
  and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry
  steaming out their pores, stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking
  training. SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! Fuck the Chelsea boys with their
  waxed chests and pumped up biceps. Going down on each other in my
  parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35. Fuck
  the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and
  their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the
  country, still no speaky English? Fuck the Russians in Brighton
  Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little
  glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin and dealin and
  schemin. Go back where you fucking came from! Fuck the
  black-hatted Chassidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their
  dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African
  apartheid diamonds! Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled
  masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gekko wannabe
  mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people
  blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for FUCKING LIFE! You
  think Bush and Cheney didnt know about that shit? Give me a
  fucking break! Tyco! Worldcom! Fuck the Puerto Ricans. 20 to a car,
  swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin parade in the city.
  And dont even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, cause they
  make the Puerto Ricans look good. Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians
  with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, their St.
  Anthony medallions, swinging their, Jason Giambi, Louisville
  slugger, baseball bats, trying to audition for the Sopranos. Fuck
  the Upper East Side wives with their Hermes scarves and their
  fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and
  lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny. Youre not fooling
  anybody, sweetheart! Fuck the uptown brothers. They never pass the
  ball, they dont want to play defense, they take five steps on
  every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and
  blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and
  thirty seven years ago. Move the fuck on! Fuck the corrupt cops
  with their anus violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing
  behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust! Fuck the
  priests who put their hands down some innocent childs pants. Fuck
  the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And while
  youre at it, fuck JC! He got off easy! A day on the cross, a
  weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for
  eternity! Try seven years in fuckin Otisville, J! Fuck Osama Bin
  Laden, Al Qaeda, and backward-ass, cave-dwelling, fundamentalist
  assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I
  pray you spend the rest of eternity with your seventy-two whores
  roasting in a jet-fuel fire in hell. You towel headed camel jockeys
  can kiss my royal Irish ass! Fuck Jacob Elinsky, whining
  malcontent. Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery my best friend, judging
  me while he stares at my girlfriends ass. Fuck Naturelle Riviera,
  I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back, sold me up the
  river, fucking bitch. Fuck my father with his endless grief,
  standing behind that bar sipping on club sodas, selling whisky to
  firemen, cheering the Bronx bombers. Fuck this whole city and
  everyone in it. From the row-houses of Astoria to the penthouses on
  Park Avenue, from the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho.
  From the tenements in Alphabet City to the brownstones in Park
  slope to the split-levels in Staten Island. Let an earthquake
  crumble it, let the fires rage, let it burn to fucking ash and then
  let the waters rise and submerge this whole rat-infested place.
[pause]
Monty Brogan: No. No, fuck you, Montgomery Brogan. You had it all,
  and you threw it away, you dumb fuck!

Monty Brogan: I need you to make me ugly.

Uncle Nikolai: I have been in three different prisons, Montgomery.
  Three different countries. And you know what I learned? I learned
  prison is a bad place to be.

Uncle Nikolai: I tattooed "survive" on my hand the night before I
  went away to prison. And I did. We do what we have to do to
  survive.

[last lines]
[On imagining an alternate ending for Monty]
James Brogan: Well drive. Keep driving. Head out to the middle of
  nowhere, take that road as far as it takes us. Youve never been
  west of Philly, have ya? This is a beautiful country Monty, its
  beautiful out there, like a different world. Mountains, hills,
  cows, farms, and white churches. I drove out west with your mother
  one time, before you was born. Brooklyn to the Pacific in three
  days. Just enough money for gas, sandwiches, and coffee, but we
  made it. Every man, woman, and child alive should see the desert
  one time before they die. Nothin at all for miles around. Nothin
  but sand and rocks and cactus and blue sky. Not a soul in sight. No
  sirens. No car alarms. Nobody honkin atcha. No madmen cursin or
  pissin in the streets. You find the silence out there, you find
  the peace. You can find God. So we drive west, keep driving till we
  find a nice little town. These towns out in the desert, you know
  why they got there? People wanted to get way from somewhere else.
  The deserts for startin over. Find a bar and Ill buy us drinks.
  I havent had a drink in two years, but Ill have one with you, one
  last whisky with my boy. Take our time with it, taste the barley,
  let it linger. And then Ill go. Ill tell you dont ever write me,
  dont ever visit, Ill tell you I believe in Gods kingdom and Ill
  see you and your mother again, but not in this lifetime. Youll get
  a job somewhere, a job that pays cash, a boss who doesnt ask
  questions, and you make a new life and you never come back. Monty,
  people like you, its a gift, youll make friends wherever you go.
  Youre going to work hard, youre going to keep your head down and
  your mouth shut. Youre going to make yourself a new home out
  there. Youre a New Yorker, that wont ever change. You got New
  York in your bones. Spend the rest of your life out west but youre
  still a New Yorker. Youll miss your friends, youll miss your dog,
  but youre strong. You got your mother backbone in you, youre
  strong like she was. You find the right people, and you get
  yourself papers, a drivers license. You forget your old life, you
  cant come back, you cant call, you cant write. You never look
  back. You make a new life for yourself and you live it, you hear
  me? You live your live the way it should have been. But maybe, this
  is dangerous, but maybe after a few years you send word to
  Naturelle. You get yourself a new family and you raise them right,
  you hear me? Give them a good life Monty. Give them what they need.
  You have a son, maybe you name him James, its a good strong name,
  and maybe one day years from now years after im dead and gone
  reunited with your dear ma, you gather your whole family around and
  tell them the truth, who you are, where you come from, you tell
  them the whole story. Then you ask them if they know how lucky
  there are to be there. It all came so close to never happening.
  This life came so close to never happening.

Frank Slaughtery: Why is it that a woman walks in a room with great
  tits, every other woman in the joint says that shes a slut? Why is
  that?
Naturelle Riviera: I have great tits. Im not a slut.

Uncle Nikolai: This is my advice to you: When you get there, figure
  it out whos who. Find the man nobodys protecting. A man without
  friends. And beat him until his eyes bleed. Let them think you are
  little bit crazy, but respectful, too. Respectful of the right men.

Agent Flood: Shiiit... Mr. Brogan, I do believe youre fucked...
  royally! SHIIIIIT...!

Naturelle Riviera: One minute ago, you were my friend. Are you drunk?
  Tell me youve been drinking too much. Youre fucking drunk.
Frank Slaughtery: Im Irish. I cant get drunk, all right? I know
  exactly what Im saying.

Kostya Novotny: [as he arrives late for the party] So how can you
  start this party without me?
Monty Brogan: Oh shut up, you fat Russian fuck!
Kostya Novotny: Fat UKRANIAN fuck!

Monty Brogan: When you have your dick in his mouth, does he just keep
  talking like that? Cause it seems to me he just never shuts up,
  and Im just curious, does that get annoying? You know youre
  fucking a guy in the mouth and he just wont shut up?

Mary DAnnunzio: I wanted to know why I got a B minus on my paper.
Jakob Elinsky: You got what you earned.
Mary DAnnunzio: Nobody else in that class can write! You know it! I
  know it! Everyone knows it!
Jakob Elinsky: Dont worry. Youre not competing with them.
Mary DAnnunzio: Yeah. But I am. Okay. I am competing with them. When
  you apply for college, you might have heard of this, they look at
  these things called grades and if your grades arent good enough...
Jakob Elinsky: Your grades are going to be fine.
Mary DAnnunzio: Vincent Phiscalla writes a story about his
  grandmother dying and you give him an A plus. And meanwhile, the
  night of the funeral, you wanna know where Rhodes Scholar Vince is?
  Getting smashed at a basketball party and slapping girls asses. I
  mean, what is that? A charity A+? You wanna know why everybody
  always writes about their grandmothers dying? Its not because its
  so traumatic. Its because its a guaranteed A+! And you sit there
  all sentimental "Oh, Vince it was very powerful, very moving." No,
  it wasnt. You didnt care. Nobody cared. Thats what grandmothers
  do. They die!
Jakob Elinsky: Sometimes, guys have a hard time showing their
  emotions.
Mary DAnnunzio: So, slapping my ass is a way of mourning his dead
  grandmother?
Jakob Elinsky: [points to Marys stomach] What did your mother say
  when you got that?
Mary DAnnunzio: Um, she said, "Where did you get the money for
  that?"
Jakob Elinsky: And?
Mary DAnnunzio: What did I say or did I get the money?
Jakob Elinsky: What did you say?
Mary DAnnunzio: I said, "He likes me."
Jakob Elinsky: Does he?
Mary DAnnunzio: No. Why do you care so much?
Jakob Elinsky: Just curious.
Mary DAnnunzio: So, youre not gonna change the grade?
Jakob Elinsky: No, Im not going to change the grade.
Mary DAnnunzio: Great! You know what, this was a big waste of my
  time!
Jakob Elinsky: Wait!

Jakob Elinsky: [about the poem] To his coy mistress.
Mary DAnnunzio: Well, its not real deep or anything. The guy wants
  to get laid and hes telling her to give it up.

Monty Brogan: [Mary drinks her champagne all at once] Did you like
  that?
Mary DAnnunzio: Yep.

Kostya Novotny: Monty, I have beautiful woman, very nice!
Monty Brogan: Yeah, well, Im not really in the mood for that. Ive
  got a nice girl.
Kostya Novotny: I know, I know. Tonight is a special night. Last
  night as free man. I pick her out special, just for you.
Monty Brogan: The last girl you picked out special for me had three
  teeth, all in the back!

[first lines]
Monty Brogan: Look at this. Hes alive.
Kostya Novotny: This dog, how you call it? Bull Pit?
Monty Brogan: No, Pit-Bull. But thats not a Pit-Bull. I dont know,
  I dont know what he is. I bet he lost somebody some money though.
  Give me your gun.
Kostya Novotny: Shooting him?
Monty Brogan: Yeah.