Homicide: Life on the Street, Season 3

Bayliss:
You guys think I'm a jerk, don't you? You think that I'm this naive rookie? Listen, if you wanna talk about me behind my back, that's fine. You go right ahead. But when I ask you to cop to it, please don't give me some lame story, alright?

Howard:
Your wife called, lookin' for you. Where were you?

Felton:
Beth called you tonight?

Howard:
Yeah, she said you told her we were working late on a case.

Beau:
What did you tell her?

Howard:
I told her you were in my bathroom washing up after some great sex.

Pembleton:
The Jesuits taught me how to think - I haven't felt safe since.

Lewis:
Alright, John. I got a couple of questions for you and I want you to answer absolutely and honestly.

Munch:
Of course.

Lewis:
Question #1. Have you ever been arrested for a felony or a misdemeanor?

Munch:
No. Next.

Lewis:
C'mon John. Think back. Think way back to the hazy days of the summer of love. Your callow youth.

Munch:
Oh, yeah. -- No.

Lewis:
John, this is very important, ok? The liquor board gets the report from the state police, so if you have any demons in your closet, now is the time to set them free.

Munch:
Are you implying that in my college years I was engaged in activities of a criminal nature?

Lewis:
Yes. Everybody knows you were a major pothead. C'mon, man. I don't care if you smoked the stuff, I don't even care if you sold it. What I need to know is, were you ever caught?

Munch:
Never.

Lewis:
Okay. Great.

Munch:
Can I go now?

Lewis:
I have a few more questions for you.

Munch:
Can I have an attorney present?

Pembleton:
With God on our side, who can stand against us?

Munch:
This is just a stupid formality. We gotta go all the way down there just so some bureacrat, some puny bureacrat who's overfed and probably got bad skin, so he can feel important?

Lewis:
Don't open your mouth.

Munch:
Me? Open my mouth?

Lewis:
No, no. Promise me. I gotta hear it from you. Say, I'll be good.

Munch:
I promise I'll be good.

Lewis:
Oh, and there's one other thing. Don't wear that tie with the little bhuddas on it. It's ugly.

Munch:
And what's wrong with that tie?

Lewis:
I wouldn't give directions to a guy wearing a tie like that.

Munch:
Well, guess what? That just happens to be my lucky tie. I love that tie. Felicia gave me that tie.

Lewis:
Well, there you go. I rest my case.

Liquor Commissioner:
The other guy should be here.

Lewis:
But we don't have to reschedule. I called ahead.

Liquor Commissioner:
But it seems we have a little problem here.

Lewis:
No, we don't. What you have there is everything. Signed, sealed and delivered.

Liquor Commissioner:
Your pal has a conviction. Misdemeanor gambling from '84.

Munch:
I don't... Wouldn't I remember that?

Liquor Commissioner:
It's this other guy, Bayliss.

Pembleton:
The worst sin in my book: the killer that goes unpunished.

Danvers:
She has Multiple Personality Disorder. That helps her, not me.

Munch:
I got it! Why don't we charge one of the personalities with harboring a fugitive?

Giardello:
She's a Teflon murderer. Nothing will stick to her.

Nun:
I know that Katherine Goodrich would have, with her dying breath, forgiven her attacker.

Pembleton:
What about the others? Who speaks for them? What right do any of us have to forgive in their name?

Pembleton:
I don't believe you have MPD. But I don't care if you really do or don't. I also don't care how many personalities you may or may not have. Because of you there are eight personalities who will never speak again. You had no right to kill them. Especially in God's name. And I gotta believe, even if you walk outta here scot free, God is gonna make you pay one way or another.

[Pembleton leaves room.]

Wilgis:
I'm sure he will.

Bolander:
I didn't know Crosetti at all. I didn't want to. What ticks me off that I'm beginning to realize how little I know about myself. I don't know enough about who I am or how I do the job that I do to ask the right questions from my fraternal brothers to figure out what one of us is about. I keep trying to remember Crosetti. His desk was 3 feet away from mine and I can't even remember if we said any more than "hi ya" to each other for a whole entire year.

Lewis:
I watched them slice up my partner in the morgue. Scheiner took the electric saw; sliced off the top of his head, took his heart, weighed it, and tossed it into a steel container like the kind you find in a restaurant kitchen. How many times I been to the M.E.? How many times I've seen him slice the top of somebody's head off? Couple hundred times maybe, maybe more. But I never really noticed, I never really watched. Till I saw Steve.

Bayliss:
So you're a homicide detective and your brother is an undertaker. Between the two of you, the holiday dinner table must be a riot.

Munch:
Just one life-affirming story after another.

Giardello:
I know everybody is on you to do right by Steve. To make sure it doesn't come out a suicide.

Bolander:
That what you're asking, Lieutenant? To make it a murder? A murder with no murderers? A murder that can't be solved? If you want me to do it; I'll do it. Hell, my clearance rate is so low these days, one more open case isn't gonna make any difference. Everybody says 'do it for Steve'. And I keep thinking, I mean, if he chose to commit suicide, what right do I have, what right does any of us have, to make that go away? I don't agree with what he did, but if that's his final statement, should I wipe that clear, just for our peace of mind? I mean, nobody wants to admit it, but everybody knows what really happened.

Bolander:
The Italians are an unforgiving lot.

Giardello:
I know. But we make great pasta. It balances out.

Munch:
What happened to the good old bar where you just go in and talk to the bartender, you think, you get depressed, and you drink, and you go home and puke?

Lewis:
It's outdated, Munch.

Lennox Young:
My brother got shot.

Munch:
But all you heard was a bang?

Lennox Young:
I got ears like a dog.

Munch:
And you've been using us like fire hydrants.

Felton:
Romper, stomper, bomper, blue. I see Jimmy and Julie. Except she never saw me. I spent years in front of that friggin' tube and she never once saw Beau in the magic mirror. That BITCH!

Munch:
But what if they make me take a test? I can't take tests. I always clutch. What if I take it and fail and all our dreams come crashing down?

Bayliss:
Well, then it's simple. Meldrick and I will harm you.

Felton:
Oh, so that's what cous-cous is.

Lewis:
Where is it written a man can't try something new every now and again?

Bolander:
Who's the dolly? Who's the dolly?

Lewis:
What?

Bolander:
I've never seen a man eat cous-cous unless a woman was involved. Who is she?

Felton:
Lewis is in love with Emma Zoole. Let me clue you in on something, pal. Cous-cous is not gonna make a difference. I've gone the health food route. Stir-fry this, low-fat that; what this is really about is control. If you allow her to control what it is you eat, it's curtains. How much more primary, how much more basic can you get than what a man puts into his stomach? Munch and crunch all the veggies you want, but in the end, new girl or not, you're out. Because you did not take a stand and that's what this is about. Not health, not love, not living fat-free. This is about women trying to dominate men.

Lewis:
It's just cous-cous, man.

Bolander:
How was it?

Bayliss:
How was--how--how--was what?

Bolander:
Your date with Emma. I heard you took her to an art gallery.

Lewis:
DATE?! You had a date with Emma?! You went behind my back with Emma?!

Bayliss:
Me? Meldrick, look at-- No, no, I would not do that.

Howard:
Hey Bayliss, Beau says you slept with Emma Zoole in a cuffoon or something?

Lewis:
What is she-- You went to bed with Emma?

Bayliss:
No, Meldrick, no. We did not go to a bed together.

Lewis:
You slept with MY Emma?!

Gee:
I thought I smelled sex around here.

Bolander:
What is a cuffoon?

Howard:
I don't know. Beau was laughing so hard when he said it, he had to sit down.

Lewis:
You are a disloyal son of a bitch and I don't want anyhing to do with you.

Pembleton:
It's till death do you part. You die - you part.

Pembleton:
Finding love is like solving the perfect crime: you look at every shred of evidence, you talk to every witness, follow up every lead, but more often than not, what wins in the end is just pure, dumb luck. And you my friend, are just not lucky.

Lewis:
[answering the phone, at Christmas] Merry Christmas, Homicide.

Munch:
[answering the phone, at Christmas] Ho-Ho-Ho-Homicide.

Bolander:
You don't believe in anything.

Munch:
Sure I do.

Bolander:
Oh, yeah?

Munch:
Yeah.

Bolander:
What do you believe in?

Munch:
I believe that one day I'll be sitting at a bar in Hong Kong and this incredibly attractive and submissive woman with an abiding interest in art and existential philosophy will come up to me and say take me home and ravish me.

Munch:
How come all the miracles that have happened; happened in the past?

Bolander:
What are you talking about?

Munch:
Name one miracle that's happened in your lifetime.

Bolander:
How 'bout the fact that I haven't killed you yet?

Fidel:
You've got a weird way of talking.

Munch:
Don't start with me again, Fidel.

Fidel:
It's like you hafta use all these weird words, its like you're listening to the words like they were in a cartoon coming out of your mouth and you're watching them thinking "I'm cool, I'm cool."

Giardello:
Let me give you some advice Tim. Never try to hustle a Sicilian.

Pembleton:
One time, one time I'd like to hear about a murder that makes any sense. One time, for any reason.

Pembleton:
You know, every day I get out of bed and drag myself to the next cup of coffee. I take a sip and the caffeine kicks in, I can focus my eyes again, my brain starts to order the day. I'm up, I'm alive. I'm ready to rock. The time is coming when I wake up and decide I'm not getting out of bed. I'm not getting up for coffee or food or sex. If it comes to me, fine; if it won't, fine. No more expectations. The longer I live the less I know. I should know more. I should know that coffee's killing me. You're suspicious of your suspicions? I'm jealous, Kay. I'm so jealous. You still have the heart to have doubts? Me, I'm going to lock up a fourteen-year-old kid for what could be the rest of his natural life. I gotta do this; this is my job. This is the deal, this is the law, this is my day. I have no doubts or suspicions anymore. Heart has nothing to do with it anymore. Its all in the caffeine.

Older Waitress Applicant:
One rule I don't abide by is, "The customer is always right." The customer is never right.

Pembleton:
You know now, don't you? You got the fear, now. Don't you? Son, I don't usually find myself giving advice, especially to 14 year old killers, but please, please listen to me. Just this one time. Keep your ass to the wall. Don't trust anybody, don't believe anybody, don't help anybody, don't ask anybody for anything. Do you understand?

Munch:
You're telling me we can't tear down our bathroom because George Washington came here and took a whiz?

Lewis:
Hey, look, are you capable of giving us a straight answer, or do we need to drag your narrow behind downtown, and you can finish your lunch at the stationhouse.

Preacher:
You got Natty Bo on tap at your office, I'm in.

Bayliss:
So, you're just gonna walk out on me?

Pembleton:
I didn't walk out on you Tim. We're not engaged; so don't act like I left you at the altar.

Giardello:
How does your partner end up bumping his head if he was wearing a seatbelt and you were driving slowly?!?

Lewis:
Well...you know Bayliss.

Bayliss:
Do you know what it is like, Frank, to work with Lewis? The man is a demon from another dimension!

Pembleton:
God have mercy on a man who doubts what he's sure of.

Pembleton:
You want me to come back? Why? Because we're friends? That's not true.

Giardello:
You're right. I've never been to your house, I've never met your wife. We are not friends. It ticks me off because you say what you think and you don't give a damn what I think about what you think. But there's one thing I know for certain, you change red names to black. And for that reason, and that reason alone, I want you back.

Felton:
Stan, where's your grass skirt? I heard you looked fabulous.

Bolander:
You want me to snap on you, Felton? I'll snap on you right now.

Felton:
Easy, Big Man. Can't you take a compliment?

Giardello:
Pembleton, Bayliss, Lewis- get over to Madison and St. Paul.

Lewis:
What's up Gee?

Giardello:
We've got detectives down.

Pembleton:
Which detectives?

Giardello:
Bolander, Felton, and Howard.

Lewis:
What?

Giardello:
I'm on my way to Shock Trauma. They've been shot. Frank,you're the primary.

Landlord:
This ain't right.

Lewis:
What?

Pembleton:
Yeah it is, 201, open it up.

Landlord:
No, Holton's in 210.

Pembleton:
2-1-0?

Landlord:
Yeah, 210, down there.

Lewis:
They went to the wrong door.

Munch:
My shoes are wrecked. I've got their blood all over my shoes.

Pembleton:
Like I said, I'm fine.

Giardello:
Feeling a little freaked?

Pembleton:
No.

Giardello:
Scared?

Pembleton:
No.

Giardello:
Guilty?

Pembleton:
No. That's Bayliss. Not me.

Giardello:
Oh, I get it. You don't feel anything at all. You're the type of guy that two weeks from now, you'll be stopped at a traffic light and all this will hit you and when it hits, it'll hit hard. It'll hit you so hard that your heart will burst into a hundred pieces.

Giardello:
Let him talk; he'll talk all he wants. The more he talks, the deeper he steps into the crap.

Det. Walker:
Mrs. Holton, we need to ask you a few more questions.

Mrs. Holton:
Who's he?

Lewis:
Detective Lewis. Homicide.

Mrs. Holton:
A good-looking Police Officer? How come you never brought nobody good-looking with you before?

Det. Walker:
Good-looking? You need glasses, Mrs. Holton.

Lewis:
[advising Felton] Just keep goin' on.

Felton:
Meldrick, that's like the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my whole life.

Lewis:
Now you're just spittin' on my advice. You ask me down here and I open up my heart to you and you gonna spit on my advice, just like that?

Felton:
Basically, yeah.

Lewis:
Gimme back the giraffe.

Felton:
No.

Lewis:
You don't want my advice, then gimme back the damn giraffe!

Lewis:
I feel real good. I feel good that any f***ing asshole can go down to the corner store and buy himself a semiautomatic weapon and start blasting. You know what else I feel good about? I feel good about you people; you media motherf***ers. Gonna take this shit and put it on the evening news. Your ratings are gonna be good. You vultures oughta be ashamed of your goddamned selves.

Pembleton:
He who loses control, loses!

Felton:
I'm an extraordinary bitching pain in the ass.

Russert:
What are you doing back here, Tim?

Bayliss:
I think the real question is, why would I ever leave here? Because unlike Frank, I love my job. I love it here, I love it here so much, that I think I'll just stay here forever.

Bayliss:
I love it here, I just love it here. I love it here! Criminology, that's my specialty. Tim Bayliss, Homicide...

Logan:
So, this is Charm City? Sounds like something you'd get out of a box of Cracker Jacks. Who'd wanna stay in this land of enchantment?

Pembleton:
Plenty of New Yorkers ran down here to Baltimore. Dorothy Parker, for one.

Logan:
Dorothy who?

R. Vincent Smith:
Parker, you illiterate.

Lewis:
I gotta hand it to you, baby. You got some nerve on you. Do me a favor, would ya? Would you autograph this for me?

Munch:
What are you talking about?

Lewis:
And put the date and something personal. Never know; could be valuable in the future.

Munch:
What is going on around here?

Lewis:
You don't know?

Munch:
No, I don't.

Lewis:
You ain't been across the street?

Munch:
No, I haven't. Is there something across the street I should know about?

Lewis:
Yeah, you need to take a look at the photo exhibit at the gallery over there.

Munch:
I do?

Lewis:
Yeah. Absolutely. Go way in the back, up againest the wall, you'll... you'll know what I'm talking about. You know, I would've never had the nerve to done something like that. And I thought you were all talk, ya big fella. Ohhh, Munchkin. Whoops, guess we can't call him that anymore, huh?

Pembleton:
[About suspected cop shooter Pratt] All I know is, he was driven, in his own perverted mind, to make the world a better place for losers like himself; made his poison more dangerous than most.

Giardello:
Maybe you can tell me about the Battisto case.

Lewis:
Well, we're moving along slowly but surely, we're trudging through it. Uncky Frank is on top of things.

Pembleton:
You know, it might help if I had a partner who didn't whine so much, but hey, let's not get caught up in the details.

Bolander:
You think the old partner's a few bricks shy of a load, huh?

Munch:
Stan, you're a load. Trust me.

Lewis:
I'll come with you, Stan. Besides, I kinda like working with you Big Man. You're like a father figure to me.

Bolander:
A father figure?

Lewis:
Yeah, a father figure.

Bolander:
You ever repeat that, I'll gut ya.

Munch:
We need new customers or we're not gonna have a bar.

Lewis:
So what? Ladies night? Wet T-shirt contest, what?

Bolander:
Turtle races. I've always enjoyed them.

Munch:
We're sinking here, Stan and you're talking about turtle races.

Bolander:
Fix me a drink. Scotch

Munch:
You sure you should be drinking? You just got outta the hospital a month ago.

Bolander:
Are you gonna pour me a drink or do I hafta wreck this place again?!!!

Munch:
Let destiny be your guide, Big Man.

Bolander:
Nothing is real.

Pembleton:
What do you mean, nothing is real?

Bolander:
There is no reality.

Pembleton:
Really...

Bolander:
Take the color green. You see green, I see green. We call it "green" because as a society we have agreed that this thing, this color, is green. We think we're having the shared experience of green, but how do we know? Maybe my green is actually greener than your green.

Pembleton:
You mean, maybe my green is red?

Bolander:
Maybe. Take colorblind people, they carry with them a stigma --

Pembleton:
A stigmatism.

Bolander:
Because they don't see what the rest of us see as green. But maybe, just maybe, their perception is correct. Maybe a colorblind person is actually seeing pure green, the real green.

Pembleton:
Man, this is just my luck. I get a call. My partner's off tonight. So I look around the Squad Room. I see Munch. No. I see Howard. No. Felton. Lewis. No. No. I think Bolander. I'll take Bolander. He's the only one who won't drive me crazy.

Bolander:
I'm driving you crazy?

Pembleton:
Philosophizing. You're not known as the philosophical type, Stan.

Bolander:
You get shot in the head, it makes you think.

Pembleton:
Okay. Theoretically,a woman can lead a man on, go up to his room, take off her clothes, jump into bed -- it becomes rape the moment she says stop. Jim may have feared for his life at some point during the confrontation, but he wasn't afraid at the moment he fired the fatal bullet.

Bayliss:
He made a bad judgment call. You're gonna crucify him for making a mistake?

Pembleton:
This is more than a bad judgment call. He killed Gersel for some other reason.

Danvers:
What other reason?

Pembleton:
I think it's racially motivated.

Bayliss:
Why does that not surprise me, Frank? Why am I not stunned that you've unearthed yet another racial injustice?

Pembleton:
I guess you know me too well, Tim.

Bayliss:
Danvers, will you put a stop to this nonsense?

Danvers:
I could deem the incident accidental, a misunderstanding established by circumstances. I could decide that the suspect not be charged. But I'm not sure I should take on the burden of determination... I'm going to recommend we go before a Grand Jury --

Bayliss:
On what charge?

Danvers:
Manslaughter.

Bayliss:
What? Why?

Danvers:
Because you're a cop. Because your cousin's white. I don't want it to look like we're showing any favoritism.

Bayliss:
Oh, I see. In an effort not to show favoritism, Jim's being overly prosecuted.

Umut Gersel:
My son, he loved everything American. Growing up, he'd watch your movies and TV shows and rock n' roll. But mostly he loved what America stood for. Many of us believe there is too much repression in my country. We are not allowed to think or move as freely as you are, but if that freedom means getting away with killing an innocent boy, perhaps we are better off...

Bolander:
Munch, let's go.

Munch:
What've we got?

Bolander:
Skeleton found buried in the basement of a house over on Gough Street. A couple's renovating the house, the contractor dug up bones. They're turning the cellar into a playroom.

Munch:
Nice.

Bolander:
My bet, the skeleton's at least a hundred years old.

Lewis:
Why's that, Big Man?

Bolander:
Every year or so someone digs up bones in a basement in Fell's Point. It usually turns out to be some poor sailor who got a night's leave off some nineteenth century schooner docked in the harbor. The sailor came into town for a drink or some poker, got rolled for his pay, got stuffed in the basement. Meanwhile, up in Maine or England or even China, some young bride walked the shore, peering out into the sea, waiting her whole life for him to return.

Munch:
Jeez, Stanley, more and more I see the poet in you.

Bolander:
That ain't poetry, Munch. Them's the hard, cold facts.

Howard:
Life was simpler a hundred years ago.

Bolander:
Death was simpler.

Bayliss:
You're not going to say anything to me, are you?

Pembleton:
What would you like me to say?

Bayliss:
For a start, "I'm sorry"...

Pembleton:
I'm not sorry. I did my job.

Bayliss:
You still believe that my cousin killed that boy because he was an Arab?

Pembleton:
Hikmet was not an Arab. Turks are not Arabs --

Bayliss:
My cousin could not consciously kill someone.

Pendleton:
I don't think it was premeditated. I think it was inherent. Jim's racism is so much a part of him, that he didn't have a chance to think about what he was doing. Jim is worse than a Klansman. 'Cause at least in their white sheets, they are recognizable. But your cousin's brand of bigotry is more frightening because, like still water, it runs deep. He doesn't even see it himself.

Bayliss:
You are wrong, dead wrong.

Pembleton:
The only one "dead wrong" is Hikmet Gersel. Did you see what happened when the verdict was announced? They applauded. Those law-abiding citizens, those good people applauded the death of a child. Let me ask you something, Tim -- then you tell me whether or not it was racially motivated -- if that boy had been American, if that boy had been white -- do you think would have cheered?

Pembleton:
Luck had nothing to do with it. God reached down and graced a fool with wisdom.

Pembleton:
You're not Catholic and you took communion?

Bayliss:
Yeah, is that wrong?

Pembleton:
If my God wins, you're screwed.

Bayliss:
[to Pembleton] Where the hell was God when this woman needed Him? Why doesn't Mr. God protect people like Katharine Goodrich or Adena Watson?

Pembleton:
Damn Him!

Bayliss:
The killer?

Pembleton:
God.

Bayliss:
Frank, I don't think you can ask God to damn Himself. And if you do, don't stand next to me because I don't want to get hit by lightning, this is a new suit.

Pembleton:
[to the nun] I don't pray anymore. I used to. I used to pray for answers. A clue, a sign of what I should do, how to find something precious in this life. There was a time when I thought it was my job. But is it? Nothing in this world changes because of what I do. The hurt goes on and on. God has… God has given up on us. He doesn't hear us any more, sister.

Pembleton:
Where I come from, EVERY life has meaning... even yours, Felton, even yours.

Chick:
[angry] Is this what you learned in Baltimore? Not to trust the people you love?

Howard:
...What I learned in Baltimore is that people get murdered for all kinds of reasons, but a dead body is still stone-cold.

[Munch and Lewis are talking about a historic building they plan to turn into a bar]

Penelope Smith-Haddon:
Surely you can understand our desire to protect that history, especially in connection to George Washington.

Munch:
George Washington?

Penelope Smith-Haddon:
George Washington... In 1793, he was traveling from Mount Vernon to Philadelphia. He stopped here.

Munch:
He stopped here?

Penelope Smith-Haddon:
Of course, it was a residence at the time.

Lewis:
George Washington slept here?

Penelope Smith-Haddon:
Well, no...

Munch:
He had dinner?

Penelope Smith-Haddon:
No.

Lewis:
So what did he do here?

Penelope Smith-Haddon:
Apparently the President, just coming from a dinner party where he had consumed quite a bit of wine, was in something of a bind. He had no time to seek out a public chamber pot.

Munch:
Are you telling us the reason we can't tear down the bathroom is that it's where George Washington once took a whizz?

[She nods]

Reporter Dawn Daniels:
How do you feel now?

Munch:
Sad, angry...

Reporter Dawn Daniels:
Stressed?

Munch:
Life is stress by definition.

Logan:
Detective Frank Pembleton? Mike Logan, NYPD. This is your prisoner, R. Vincent Smith.

Pembleton:
So, whenever you decide to show up, I'm supposed to be here?

Logan:
Hey, you're on the clock same as me, what difference does it make?

Pembleton:
Typical Big Apple attitude.

Logan:
Anyway, Mr. Smith here has agreed to waive extradition on a felony warrant for second-degree murder. So they call this Charm City, huh? Sounds like something you get out of a box of Cracker Jacks. Who'd want to stay in this land of enchantment?

Pembleton:
Plenty of New Yorkers ran down here to Baltimore. Dorothy Parker, for one.

Logan:
Dorothy who?

R. Vincent Smith:
Parker, you illiterate.

[Logan slaps the back of Smith's head]

Pembleton:
Dorothy Parker was the wittiest woman in America. The toast of Manhattan. She dies, she's cremated. Her ashes sit in a jar in some Wall Street lawyer's office for twenty years - twenty years - while all the New York sophisticates ham and haw, 'whatsoever shall we do with poor Dorothy's ashes?' And where does she end up? Baltimore!

Logan:
I got two words for you guys. Babe Ruth. The Babe. King of Swing, Sultan of Swat, born right here in Baltimore. But where does he go to get his fame and fortune? New York City.

R. Vincent Smith:
Edgar Allen Poe. Edgar Allen Poe hated New York so much he had to come to Baltimore to die! That's what New York does to its poets.

Logan:
What did he die of, the local crab cakes? Enjoy your stay, Shakespeare.

Pembleton:
You're going to jail for this murder. But thank your lucky stars it's not gonna be in New York.

R. Vincent Smith:
Why do you think I didn't fight extradition? I may be guilty, but I'm no fool.

Munch:
[after seeing a picture of himself in an art gallery] I'm naked! My dingle is blowing in the wind!

Bolander:
A woman can affect a man totally. How a woman feels about a man, that's how he is gonna feel about himself, his friends, his job...