The Dancer Upstairs

[Rejas and Sucre are looking at a dead dog hanging from a lamp-post, with dynamite stuck down its throat]

Sucre:
What sort of a person would do that?

Agust?n Rejas:
I don't know, but I wouldn't entirely rule out a cat-lover.

Agust?n Rejas:
I'd like to have a list of staff with access to the President's chambers.

Calder?n:
Luckily there are only two of them. The first is named 'F***', the second is named 'Off'.

[first lines]

Indian 1 in Pick-up:
[calmly after hitting road-side cop, about person on radio] Why does she talk so much?

Ezequiel:
[equally calm] She's preparing to sing.

Sucre:
Sir, should I ask him if he wants to borrow my penis?

Sucre:
[offering binoculars] Want a turn?

Llosa:
No thanks, I've seen her butt. It's nice.

Agust?n Rejas:
The trick is knowing when to be impatient.

Ezequiel:
It doesn't matter if you shoot us. We're in history.

[last lines]

Nina Simone:
[on the radio introducing her song 'Who knows where the time goes'] Sometime in your life you will have the occasion to say, what is this thing called time? You know, what is that - the clock. You go to work by the clock, you get your martini in the afternoon by the clock, you have your coffee by the clock, get on a plane at certain time and arrive, and it goes on and on and on... And time is a dictator, as we know it. Where does it go? What does it do? Most of all, is it alive? It is a thing you cannot touch, and is alive. And then one day you look in the mirror - how old. You say, where did time go?