Donna: Do you wanna fuck me or anything before I go to sleep? Donna: How you been? Eddie: I'm a wreck. Donna: You look a wreck, actually, but I didn't want to be rude and Eddie: I don't know what I'm doing. You know what I mean? Donna: You're in the pool. Eddie: Yeah. I don't know when was the last time I thought of you, Donna: I'm a surprise is all. Eddie: You want me to be kinder! Softer! I say... I say no! Be harder! Be a rock. Or polyurethane! I say, be a thing and live. Darlene: Are you aware that you're yelling? Eddie: My voice is raised in emphasis. It's a perfectly legitimate use of volume. Eddie: Just because you're Jewish, doesn't mean you're fuckin' Freud. Artie: Just because you're whatever the fuck you are, doesn't mean you're whatever the fuck you think you are. Mickey: You don't know what you're saying. You don't. Eddie: I do. Mickey: No. I know you think you know what you're saying, but you're not saying it. Eddie: No, I know what I'm saying. I don't know what I mean, but I know what I'm saying. Is that what you mean? Mickey: Yeah. Eddie: Right. But it's not like anybody knows what anything means, right? It's not like anybody knows that. So at least I know I don't know what I mean, which is better than most people. They probably think they know what they mean, not just what they think they mean. Bonnie: If your manner of speech is in any way a reflection of what goes on inside your head, you are lucky you can tie your shoes. Eddie: [reading Phil's letter] The guy who dies in an accident understands the nature of destiny. Phil: Hey, if my karma's to whack people when they do some fuckin' irrelevant thing... fuck it! Mickey: Absolutely right Phil, fuck destiny, fate, all metaphysical stuff. Fuck it! Mickey: What kind of tone is that? Eddie: What kind of tone is that? That's my tone. Mickey:
Yeah, but what does it mean?
Eddie: My tone? What does my tone mean? I don't have to interpret my fucking tone for you, Mickey. I don't know what it means. Eddie: I lie to myself. I'm a really great liar. And I'm very gullible. Eddie: Flip is sarcastic. Mickey: No, it's not. That's crazy. Sarcastic is mean, it's heavy - it's funny, sure, but it's mean. I do both, but this was flip. Eddie: She doesn't have to have one now. Phil: I tried telling her that, Eddie! I told her, I've got three kids in Toledo, I don't even know how old they are! I haven't seen 'em since I went to prison. I don't want any more kids rolling around their beds at night with this sick, fuckin' hatred of me. I can't stand it. Eddie: Oh. I was wondering. You came in this morning at something like 6:02? So... I guess dinner was a success. Mickey: Yeah, you know. Eddie: Or does it mean - and I'm just tryin' to get the facts straight here - does it mean that you fucked her? Mickey: Darlene? Eddie: Yeah. Mickey: Did I fuck... Darlene? (picks up phone) Last night? Artie: He's got this thing. Phil: It's a vibrator I carry around with me. Mickey: You carry a vibrator around with you? Phil: Yeah. As a form of come-on. So the girls can see I'm up for anything right away. Sometimes as a sort of, uh, mood-setter I turn it on. But, uh, today there was, uh, extenuating circumstances. Artie: You forgot about the weights. Phil: Yeah. Artie: He forgot about the weights. Mickey: You forgot about the weights? Phil: Yeah. Forgot about the weights. Unbelievable. Mickey: Unbelievable! You forgot about the weights? Eddie: Do you know what he's talking about? Mickey: No, I have no idea what he's talking about. Phil: You prick, you disgust me. Eddie: I'm a real person, you know? I'm not some... goddamn... TV image here! I'm a real person. You know? Now you know that, you know that! Now... come on... suck my dick! Eddie:
In the Middle Ages everyone really had to worry about witches and goblins, but what we have is stuff eating at us. We've got stuff we don't even... I mean, why do you think that all the warlords of the world are so anxious to get their own personal little stash of chemical weapons. They call them weapons of mass destruction, but they're not. They're very *very* selective about what they destroy. They annihilate people and preserve things. They love things. You and I would be dead, gas... puke... gone. Whereas, you know, other earlier older people - the ancients - could look to the heavens, which in their minds was inhabited by this thoughtful, meditative, you know, maybe a trifle unpredictable and wrathful, but nevertheless up there - this divine onlooker. We've got anchorpersons and talking heads. We've got politicians who decide life and death issues on the basis of their media concerns. That's what we've got.