Harold and Maude

Harold:
What were you fighting for?

Maude:
Oh, Big Issues. Liberty. Rights. Justice. Kings died, kingdoms fell. I don't regret the kingdom - what sense in borders and nations and patriotism? But I miss the kings.

Harold:
I like you, Maude.

Maude:
I like you, Harold.

Maude:
A lot of people enjoy being dead. But they are not dead, really. They're just backing away from life. *Reach* out. Take a *chance*. Get *hurt* even. But play as well as you can. Go team, go! Give me an L. Give me an I. Give me a V. Give me an E. L-I-V-E. LIVE!

Maude:
Otherwise, you got nothing to talk about in the locker room.

Psychiatrist:
Tell me, Harold, how many of these, eh, *suicides* have you performed?

Harold:
An accurate number would be difficult to gauge.

Psychiatrist:
Well, just give me a rough estimate.

Harold:
A rough estimate? I'd say fifteen.

Psychiatrist:
Fifteen?

Harold:
That's a rough estimate.

Psychiatrist:
Were they all done for your mother's benefit?

Harold:
No. No, I would not say "benefit."

Maude:
Dreyfus once wrote from Devil's Island that he would see the most glorious birds. Many later in Brittany he realized they had only been sea gulls... For me they will always be - *glorious* birds.

Harold:
You sure have a way with people.

Maude:
Well, they're my species!

Harold:
Do you... enjoy... knives?

Harold:
Maude.

Maude:
Hmm?

Harold:
Do you pray?

Maude:
Pray? No. I communicate.

Harold:
With God?

Maude:
With *life*.

Maude:
Vice, Virtue. It's best not to be too moral. You cheat yourself out of too much *life*. Aim above morality. If you apply that to life, then you're bound to live life fully.

Maude:
Harold, *everyone* has the right to make an ass out of themselves. You just can't let the world judge you too much.

Maude:
You know, at one time, I used to break into pet shops to liberate the canaries. But I decided that was an idea way before its time. Zoos are full, prisons are overflowing... oh my, how the world still dearly loves a cage.

Maude:
Tell me, do you dance?

Harold:
Pardon me?

Maude:
Do you sing and dance?

Harold:
Uh, no.

Maude:
Uh, no. I thought not.

Maude:
*Don't* get officious. You're not yourself when you're officious - That is the curse of a government job.

Maude:
Grab the shovel, Harold.

Maude:
Oh, Harold... That's *wonderful*. Go and love some more.

Psychiatrist:
That's very interesting, Harold, and I think, very illuminating. There seems to be a definite pattern emerging. And, of course, this pattern, once isolated, can be coped with. Recognize the problem, and you are halfway on the road to its, uh, its solution. Uh, tell me, Harold, what do you do for fun? What activity gives you a different sense of enjoyment from the others? Uh, what do you find fulfilling? What gives you that... special satisfaction?

Harold:
I go to funerals.

Harold:
You hop in any car you want and just drive off?

Maude:
Well, not any car. I like to keep a variety. I'm always looking for the new experience.

Harold:
Maybe. Nevertheless, I think you're upsetting people. I don't know if that's right.

Maude:
Well, if some people get upset because they feel they have a hold on some things, I'm merely acting as a gentle reminder: here today, gone tomorrow, so don't get attached to things. Now, with that in mind, I'm not against collecting stuff...

Maude:
That little tree — it's in trouble. Come on. [Harold and Maude walk over to a tree growing through the sidewalk in front of a building.] Look at it. Oh, it's suffocating. Well, it's the smog. You know, people can live with it, but trees — it gives them asthma. They can't breathe. The leaves, look, they’re turning all brown. Harold, we have got to do something about this life.

Harold:
What?

Maude:
We'll transplant it. To the forest.

Harold:
You can't do that

Maude:
Why not?

Harold:
This is public property.

Maude:
Well, exactly.

Motorcycle Officer:
License, lady?

Maude:
I don't have one. I don't believe in them.

Motorcycle Officer:
How long you been driving, lady?

Maude:
About 45 minutes, wouldn't you say, Harold? We were hoping to start sooner; but, you see, it's rather hard to find a truck.

Motorcycle Officer:
This your truck?

Maude:
Oh, no, I just took it.

Maude:
The earth is my body, my head is in the stars.

Who said that?

Harold:
I don’t know.

Maude:
Then I suppose I did.

Harold:
I haven't lived... I've died a few times.

Uncle Victor:
Well, what do you say, Harold? Ah, it's a great life. There's action, adventure, advising, and you'll get a chance to see the war first-hand. And there are plenty of slant-eyed girls. I'll make a man out of you, Harold. You'll travel the world, put on a uniform, and take on a man's job. You'll walk tall, with a glint in your eye and a spring in your step, and the knowledge in your heart that you are working for peace and are serving your country, just like Nathan Hale. Now, that's what this country needs - more Nathan Hales. [He salutes a picture of Nathan Hale] And, Harold, I think I can see a little Nathan Hale in you.