quotes from : Scent of A Woman
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: You are in no position to disagree. I've got a loaded .45; you got pimples.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Ooh but I still smell her. Women. What could you say? Who made 'em? God must've been a fucking genius. Hair. They that hair's everything you know. Have you ever buried your nose in a mountain of curls and just wanted to go to sleep forever? Or lips. And when they touched yours were like that first swallow of wine after you just crossed the desert. Tits. Hoo-hah! Big ones, little ones. Nipples staring right out at ya, like secret searchlights. Mmm Legs. I don't care if they're Greek columns, or second-hand Steinways, but what's between them... passport to heaven. I need a drink. Yes, Mr Sims, there's only two syllables in this whole wide world worth hearing. Pussy. Hah! Are you listenin' to me son? I'm givin' ya pearls here.
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: HOO-HAH!
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Well, gentlemen, when the shit hits the fan, some guys run and some guys stay.
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Oh, uh, Charlie - about your little problem - there are two kinds of people in this world: those who stand up and face the music, and those who run for cover. Cover is better.
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Donna: That's amazing!
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Well, I'm in the amazing business...
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: It's a great day for singing a song / It's a great day for moving along / It's a great day for morning to night / It's a great day for everybody's plight.
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Tits. Hoo-hah! Big ones, little ones. Nipples staring right out at ya, like secret searchlights.
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Legs. I don't care if they're Greek columns, or second-hand Steinways, but what's between them... passport to heaven.
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Women. What could you say? Who made 'em? God must've been a fucking genius.
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: When in doubt, fuck.
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: The day we stop looking, Charlie, is the day we die.
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: If I were the man I was five years ago I'd take a flame thrower to this place.
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: There is nothing like the sight of an amputated spirit. There is no prosthesis for that.
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Don't shrug you imbecile, I'm blind! Save the body language for the bimbae.
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Out of order, I'll show you out of order! You don't know what out of order is Mr. Trask! I'd show you but I'm too old, I'm too tired, and I'm too fuckin' blind. If I were the man I was five years ago I'd take a flame-thrower to this place. Out of order, who the hell do you think you're talking to? I've been around you know? There was a time I could see. And I have seen, boys like these, younger than these, their arms torn out, their legs ripped off. But there isn't nothin' like the sight of an amputated spirit, there is no prosthetic for that. You think you're merely sending this splendid foot-soldier back home to Oregon with his tail between his legs but I say that you are executing his soul. And why? Because he's not a Baird man. Baird men, you hurt this boy, you're going to be Baird Bums, the lot of ya. And Harry, Jimmy, Trent, wherever you are out there, fuck you too.
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Randy: You want to know the truth? The truth is, he was an asshole before. Now he's just a blind asshole. I guess God doesn't think that some people deserve to see.
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Tickets. Money. Speech. An old joke from my days with Lyndon Johnson.
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Just call me Frank. Call me Mr. Slade. Call me... Colonel, if you must, just don't call me 'Sir'.
Charlie Simms: All right. Colonel.
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: You sharp-shooting me, punk? Is that what you're doing? Don't sharp-shoot me. You'll give me forty, then you're gonna give me forty more. Then you're gonna pull KP. The grease pit! I'll rub your nose in enlisted men's CRUD 'till you don't know which end is up! You understand?
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Your father pedals car telephones at a 300 percent markup. Your mother works on heavy commission at a camera store. Graduated to it from espresso machines. Hah!
[pause]
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: What are you, dying of some wasting disease?
Charlie Simms: No, I'm right - I'm right here.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: I know exactly where your body is. What I'm looking for is some indication of a brain. Too much football without a helmet? Hah! Lyndon's line on Gerry Ford. Deputy debriefer, Paris, peace talks, '68. Snagged a silver star and a silver bar. Threw me into G-2.
Charlie Simms: G-2?
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Intelligence. Of which you have none.
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Can't believe they're my blood. I.Q. of sloths and the manners of banshees. He's a mechanic, she's a homemaker. He knows as much about cars as a beauty queen, and she bakes cookies that taste like wing nuts. As for the tots, they're twits.
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: I don't know if Charlie's silence today is right or wrong; I'm not a judge or jury. But I do know this, he won't sell anybody out to buy his future!
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Haven't you heard? Conscience is dead.
Charlie Simms: No sir, I haven't.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Well then take the fuckin' WAX out of your ears! Grow up! It's fuck your buddy, cheat on your wife, call your mother on Mother's Day... Charlie, it's all shit.
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Uh-oh, we got a moron here.
by © Sreekesh Menon at
10:37 AM
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