Good Will Hunting

Sean: Do you have a soul mate? Will: Define that. Sean: Someone you can relate to, someone who opens things up for you. Will: Sure, I got plenty. Sean: Well, name them. Will: Shakespeare, Nietzsche, Frost, O'Conner... Sean: Well that's great. They're all dead. Will: Not to me, they're not. Sean: You can't have a lot of dialogue with them. Will: Not without a heater and some serious smelling salts.

Will: I read your book last night. Sean: So you're the one.

Skylar: My father died when I was thirteen and I inherited this money. Did you ever think that everyday I wake up, that I wish I could give it back, that I would give it back in a second, if it meant I could have one more day with him? But I can't. And that's my life and I deal with it.

Skylar: What is your obsession with this money? My father died when I was 13 and I inherited this money. You don't think that every day I wake up and wish I could give it back? That I would give it back in a second if I could have one more day with him? But I can't, and that's my life and I deal with it. So don't put your shit on me when you're the one that's afraid. Will: I'm afraid? What am I afraid of? What the fuck am I afraid of? Skylar: You're afraid of me! You're afraid that I won't love you back! Fuck it, I wanna give it a shot! At least I'm honest with you.

Will: Fuck you. Sean: (reacting to "fuck ewe") You're the shepherd.

Skylar: What if I said I wouldn't have sex with you again till I got to meet your friends, what would you say? Will: I'd say it's four-thirty in the morning, they're probably up. (Picks up Skylar's phone and begins dialing) Skylar: (Laughing) Men are shameless. If you're not thinking with your wiener then you're acting directly on it's behalf. Will: Thank you. (the phone picks up) Chuckie: Eh! What the fuck? Will: Nothing Chuckie, go back to sleep. (Hangs up the phone)

Sean: Real loss is only possible when you love something more than you love yourself.

Chuckie: I didn't get on Cathy last night. Will: No? Chuckie: Nah. Will: Why not? Chuckie: I don't know. (yells across room) Cathy! Cathy: What? Chuckie: Why didn't you give me none of that nasty little hoochie-woochie you usually throw at me? Cathy: Oh, fuck you and your Irish curse, Chuckie. Like I'd waste my energy spreading my legs for that Tootsie Roll dick? So go home and give it a tug yourself.

Will: Do you like apples? Clark: Yeah. Will: Well, I got her number. How do you like them apples?

Billy: You're legally allowed to drink now so we figured the best thing for you was a car.

Morgan: My boy's wicked smart.

Chuckie: Look, you're my best friend, so don't take this the wrong way. In twenty years, if you're still livin' here, comin' over to my house to watch the Patriots games, still workin' construction, I'll fuckin' kill you. That's not a threat. Now, that's a fact. I'll fuckin' kill you.

Sean: So what do you really want to do? Will: I wanna be a shepherd. Sean: Really. Will: I wanna move up to Nashua, get a nice little spread, get some sheep and tend to them. Sean: Maybe you should go do that.

Skylar: I can be in the NBA. I'm tall, I like to wear shorts. Hook! Hook! Dunk! Dunk! Baby, I'm all about three points.

Sean: If you ever disrespect my wife again, I will end you. I will fucking end you. You got that, chief? Will: Time's up.

Sean: Nail them while they're vulnerable, that's my motto.

Sean: See you Monday. We'll be talking about Freud and why he did enough cocaine to kill a small horse.

Skylar: You were hoping for a goodnight kiss. Will: No, you know. I'll tell ya, I was hoping for a goodnight lay, but I'd settle for a good night kiss. Skylar: (Bursts out laughing) How very noble of you. Will: Thank you. But I was, you know, hoping for a good night kiss. Skylar: Well, let's just get it over with. Come on, come on. (They have their first kiss, Skylar giggling the whole time) Skylar: (after a few seconds, Skylar bursts out laughing) I think I got some of your pickle!

Chuckie: So this is a Harvard bar, huh? I thought there'd be equations and shit on the wall.

Morgan: Man, I can't believe you brought Skylar here when we're all fucking bombed and been drinking. What the fuck is she gonna think about us? Will: Yeah, Morgan, it's a real rarity that we'd be out drinking.

Will: (Sean is going through Will's profile. Inside we see are pictures of Will after brutal assaults by his foster parents) You ever have any, uh, experience with that? Sean: Twenty years of counseling, I've seen some pretty awful shit. Will: No. I mean, have you ever had any experience with that? Sean: Personally? Yeah. Yeah I have. (Sean looks away for a moment) Sean: I'm sure it ain't good. Will: My father was an alcoholic. Mean fuckin' drunk. Used to come home hammered, looking to whale on someone. So I had to provoke him, so he wouldn't go after my mother and little brother. Interesting nights were when he wore his rings... Will: He used to just put a belt, a stick, and a wrench on the kitchen table and say, "Choose." Sean: Well, I gotta go with the belt there. Will: I used to go with the wrench. Sean: Why? Will: Cause fuck him, that' why. Sean: Your foster father? Will: Yeah. (pause) So what does it say? Will has an attachment disorder? Fear of abandonment? Is that why I broke up with Skylar? Sean: Didn't know you had. Wanna talk about it? (Will shakes his head, stares off) Will, you see this, all this shit? (Holds up the file, and drops it on his desk) It's not your fault. Will: (Softly, still staring off) I know... Sean: No you don't. It's not your fault. Will: (Serious) I know. Sean: No. Listen to me son. It's not your fault. Will: I know that. Sean: It's not your fault. (Will is silent, eyes closed) It's not your fault. Will: (Will's eyes open, misty already) Don't fuck with me Sean. Not you. Sean: It's not your fault. (Will shoves Sean back, and then, hands trembling, buries his face in his hands. Will begins sobbing. Sean puts his hands on Will's shoulders, and Will grabs him and holds him close, crying) Will: Oh my God! I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry Sean! (Will continues sobbing in Sean's arms)

Skylar: Maybe we could go out for coffee sometime? Will: Great, or maybe we could go somewhere and just eat a bunch of caramels. Skylar: What? Will: When you think about it, it's just as arbitrary as drinking coffee. Skylar: (laughs) Okay, sounds good.

Will: Do you buy all these books retail or do you send away for, like, a shrink kit that comes with all these volumes included?

Chuckie: You're sitting on a winning lottery ticket and you're too big of a pussy to cash it in.

Will: Oh, come on! What? Why is it always this? I mean, I fuckin' owe it to myself to do this or that. What if I don't want to? Chuckie: No. No, no no no. Fuck you, you don't owe it to yourself man, you owe it to me, 'cause tomorrow I'm gonna wake up and I'll be 50, and I'll still be doin' this shit. And that's all right. That's fine. I mean, you're sittin' on a winnin' lottery ticket. You're too much of a pussy to cash it in, and that's bullshit. 'Cause I'd do fuckin' anything to have what you got. So would any of these fuckin' guys. It'd be an insult to watch if you're still here in 20 years. Hangin' around here is a fuckin' waste of your time.

Sean: And why does he hang out with those retarted gorillas, as you called them, because any one of them, if he asked them to, would take a fucking bat to your head, okay? It's called loyalty.

Sean: Look, if you're gonna jerk off, why don't you do it at home with a moist towel?

Will: Do you play the piano? Skylar: A bit. Will: Okay, when you look at a piano you see Mozart, right? Skylar: I see "Chopsticks."

Will: Beethoven, okay. He looked at a piano, and it just made sense to him. He could just play. Skylar: So what are you saying? You play the piano? Will: No, not a lick. I mean, I look at a piano, I see a bunch of keys, three pedals, and a box of wood. But Beethoven, Mozart, they saw it, they could just play. I couldn't paint you a picture, I probably can't hit the ball out of Fenway, and I can't play the piano. Skylar: But you can do my o-chem paper in under an hour. Will: Right. Well, I mean when it came to stuff like that... I could always just play.

Will: Does this violate the doctor-patient relationship? Sean: Not unless you grab my ass.

Will: You wasted $150,000 on an education you coulda got for a buck fifty in late charges at the public library.

Will: See, the sad thing about a guy like you is in 50 years you're gonna staht doin some thinkin on your own and you're gonna come up with the fact that there are two certaintees in life. One, don't do that. And Two, you dropped a hundred and fifty grand on a fuckin education you coulda got for a dollah fifty in late chahges at the public library

Lambeau: Sometimes I wish I had never met you. Because then I could go to sleep at night not knowing there was someone like you out there.

Will: So, when did you know, like, that she was the one for you? Sean: October 21st, 1975. Will: Jesus Christ. You know the fuckin' date? Sean: Oh yeah. Cus' it was game six of the World Series. Biggest game in Red Sox history. Will: Yeah, sure. Sean: My friends and I had, you know, slept out on the sidewalk all night to get tickets. Will: You got tickets? Sean: Yep. Day of the game. I was sittin' in a bar, waitin' for the game to start, and in walks this girl. Oh it was an amazing game, though. You know, bottom of the 8th Carbo ties it up at a 6-6. It went to 12. Bottom of the 12th, in stepped Carlton Fisk. Old Pudge. Steps up to the plate, you know, and he's got that weird stance. Will: Yeah, yeah. Sean: And BAM! He clocks it. High fly ball down the left field line! Thirty-five thousand people, on their feet, yellin' at the ball, but that's not because of Fisk. He's wavin' at the ball like a madman. Will: Yeah, I've seen... Sean: He's going, "Get over! Get over! Get OVER!" And then it HITS the foul pole. OH, he goes apeshit, and 35,000 fans, you know, they charge the field, you know? Will: Yeah, and he's fuckin' bowlin' police out of the way! Sean: Goin', "God! Get out of the way! Get 'em away!" Banging people... Will: I can't fuckin' believe you had tickets to that fuckin' game! Sean: Yeah! Will: Did you rush the field? Sean: No, I didn't rush the fuckin' field, I wasn't there. Will: What? Sean: No - I was in a bar havin' a drink with my future wife. Will: You missed Pudge Fisk's homerun? Sean: Oh yeah. Will: To have a fuckin' drink with some lady you never met? Sean: Yeah, but you shoulda seen her. She was a stunner.

Will: I don't care if Helen of Troy walks in the room, that's game six! Sean: Oh, Helen of Troy... Will: Oh my God, and who are these fuckin' friends of yours they let you get away with that? Sean: Oh... They had to. Will: W-w-w-what'd you say to them? Sean: I just slid my ticket across the table and I said, "Sorry guys, I gotta see about a girl." Will: I gotta go see about a girl? Sean: Yeah. Will: That's what you said? And they let you get away with that? Sean: Oh yeah. They saw in my eyes that I meant it. Will: You're kiddin' me. Sean: No, I'm not kiddin' you, Will. That's why I'm not talkin' right now about some girl I saw at a bar twenty years ago and how I always regretted not going over and talking to her. I don't regret the 18 years I was married to Nancy. I don't regret the six years I had to give up counseling when she got sick. And I don't regret the last years when she got really sick. And I sure as hell don't regret missin' the damn game. That's regret. (pause) Will: Wow... Woulda been nice to catch that game, though. Sean: I didn't know Pudge was gonna hit a homer.

Will: Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but I'll give it a shot. Say I'm working at N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. So I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, 'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never had a problem with get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Send in the marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number was called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some guy from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes home to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile my buddy from Southie realizes the only reason he was over there was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the skirmish to scare up oil prices so they could turn a quick buck. A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. And naturally they're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's got to walk to the job interviews, which sucks 'cause the shrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starvin' 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what do I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. Why not just shoot my buddy, take his job and give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president.

Sean: You're not perfect sport, and let me save you the suspense, this girl you've met she's not perfect either. But the question is whether or not you're perfect for each other.

Chuckie: Wait, Bill. Hold it. Did you hear that? (Man moans upstairs) Morgan! If you're watching pornos in my mom's room again, I'm gonna give you a fucking beating! (Morgan runs downstairs) Morgan: What's up fellas? Billy: Morgan, why don't you jerk off in your own fucking house. Man, that's fucking filthy. Morgan: I ain't got a VCR in my house. Chuckie: Aw, c'mon, not on my glove. Morgan: I didn't use the glove. Chuckie: That's my Little League glove. Morgan: What do you want me to do? Chuckie: I mean, what's wrong with you? You'll hump a baseball glove? Morgan: I was just using it for clean-up. Chuckie: Stop jerking off in my mother's room! Morgan: Ain't there another VCR in the house? Chuckie: It's just sad bro.

Sean: Thought about what you said to me the other day, about my painting. Stayed up half the night thinking about it. Something occurred to me... fell into a deep peaceful sleep, and haven't thought about you since. Do you know what occurred to me? Will: No. Sean: You're just a kid, you don't have the faintest idea what you're talkin' about. Will: Why thank you. Sean: It's all right. You've never been out of Boston. Will: Nope. Sean: So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, "once more unto the breach dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. And look at you... I don't see an intelligent, confident man... I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you're a genius Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine, and you ripped my fucking life apart. You're an orphan right? (Will nods) You think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you are, because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally... I don't give a shit about all that, because you know what, I can't learn anything from you, I can't read in some fuckin' book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. Then I'm fascinated. I'm in. But you don't want to do that do you sport? You're terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.

(ordering drinks) Lambeau: Perrier. Sean: That's French for "club soda."

Chuckie: Morgan, I'm not going to Kelly's just because you like the take out girl. It's fifteen minutes out of our way. Morgan: What the fuck are we gonna do that we can't spare fifteen minutes.

Will: Do you find it hard to hide the fact that you're gay? Henry Lipkin, Psychologist: (Stammers) What are... talking... about... What? Will: Look buddy, a few seconds ago you were ready to give me a jump! Henry Lipkin, Psychologist: A jump? I... I'm terribly sorry... I... Will: Hey, I don't have a problem with it. I don't care if you putt from the rough!

Sean: My wife used to fart when she was nervous.

Henry Lipkin, Psychologist: Now no more shenanigans, no more tomfoolery, no more ballyhoo.

Will: I'm pumped! Let the healing begin!

Sean: Do you have a soul mate? Will: Define that? Sean: Someone you can relate to, someone who opens things up for you. Will: Yeah, Chuckie Sean: Chuckie's family would lie down in fucking traffic for you.

Will: What is this, a Taster's Choice moment between guys?

Sean: I knew you long before you ever became a mathematical god, I knew you when you were pimple faced and homesick and didn't know what side of the bed to piss on! Lambeau: Yeah, yeah, you were smarter then me then and you're smarter then me now!

Morgan: Double Burger, (singing) Chuck, I had a double burger! Chuckie: Will you shut the fuck up, I know what you ordered, I was there Morgan: So give me my fucking sandwich. Chuckie: What do you mean your sandwich, I bought it, hey Morgan how much money you got on you? Morgan: I said I'd give you the change when we ordered the Sno-Cones when we pulled up, so why don't you give me my sandwich and stop being a prick. Chuckie: Well why don't you give me your fucking sixteen cents you got on you and we'll put your sandwich on layaway, there you go, keep it right up here for you, We'll put you on a program, everyday you bring your six cents and at the end of the week you'll have your sandwich Morgan: Why do you have to be such an asshole? Chuckie: What am I?, sandwich welfare? I think you should establish a good line of credit, like how you got your couch, payment plans, remember how your mother brought in $10 for a year and she finally got her couch Rent- A-Center Style? Morgan: Can I have my food now please? Chuckie: (throws the burger at Morgan) Here's your fucking double burger!

Lambeau: Yeah, you were smarter than me then, and you're smarter than me now. So, don't blame me for how your life turned out. Sean: I don't blame you! It's not about you, you mathematical dick! It's about the boy! He's a good kid! And I won't see you fuck him up like you're trying to fuck up me right now! I won't let you make feel like a failure too!

(last lines) (he reads a note from Will: "Sean, if the Professor calls about that job, just tell him, sorry, I have to go see about a girl.") Sean: Son of a bitch... He stole my line.

Will: I didn't ask for this. Sean: No, you were born with it. So don't cop out behind "I didn't ask for this".

Lambeau: You're angry at me for doing what you could have done but ask yourself, Sean. Ask yourself if you want Will to feel that way, if you want him to feel like a failure. Sean: Oh, you arrogant shit! That's why I don't come to the goddamned reunions 'cause I can't stand that look in your eye. Ya know, that condescending, embarrassed look. You think I'm a failure. I know who I am, and I'm proud of what I do. I was a conscientious choice, I didn't fuck up! And you and your cronies think I'm some sort of pity case. You and your kiss-ass chorus following you around going, "The Field's Medal! The Field's Medal!" Why are you still so fuckin' afraid of failure?

Sean: I just have a little question here. You could be a janitor anywhere. Why did work at the most prestigious technical college in the whole fuckin' world? And why did you sneak around at night and finish other people's formulas that only one or two people in the world could do and then lie about it? 'Cause I don't see a lot of honor in that, Will.

Sean: There's honor, ya know, in taking that 40-minute so those college kids could come in the morning and their floors are clean and their wastebaskets are empty. That's real work. Will: That's right. Sean: Right, and that's honorable. Sure that's why you took that job. I mean for the 'honor' of it.

(Morgan: If you were gonna fight them, why didn't you fight them back there? We got snacks now!

first lines) Lambeau: Mod fx... squared... dx. So please finish Parceval, by next time. I know many of you had this as undergraduates, but it won't hurt to brush up.

Chuckie: Hey asshole. Will: What, bitch? Chuckie: Happy birthday.

Sean: Do you like books? Will: Yeah. Sean: (points to wall) Did you read any of these books? Will: I don't know. Sean: (points to shelf) How about any of these books? Will: Probably not. Sean: What about the ones on the top shelf? You read those? Will: (looks) Yeah, I read those. Sean: Good for you. What do you think about 'em? Will: Hey, I'm not here for a fuckin' book report. They're your books. Why don't you read them? Sean: I did. I had to. Will: Must've taken you a long time. Sean: Yeah, it did.

Chuckie: Christ, who did you call? Will: No-one. I forgot the number. Morgan: You fuckin' retarded? You went all the way out there in the rain and you didn't bring the number? Will: No, it was your mother's 900 number. I just ran out of quarters.

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