North Dallas Forty
1979
Maxwell: You had better learn how to play the game, and I don't mean just the game of football.
Joe Bob: Where's your gun, Elliott? Phil Elliott: Freud says that guns are an extension of your dick, Jo Bob.
Phil Elliott: Jo Bob is here to remind us that the biggest and the baddest get to make all the rules. Charlotte: Well I don't agree with that. Phil Elliott: Agreeing doesn't play into it.
Conrad Hunter: People who confuse brains and luck can get into a lot of trouble.
Jo Bob: I love your legs. They got your feet at one end, and your pussy at the other, and I wanna fuck you.
Jo Bob: I've never seen titties like yours. Could I show your titties to my friend O.W.?
Maxwell: Ladies, ever had a quarterback sandwich?
Coach Johnson: This is national TV. So don't pick your noses or scratch your nuts.
Coach Johnson: If you moved any slower, you'd be going backwards!
Maxwell: You know Hartman, goodie-two-shoes is fidgeting around like a one-legged cat trying to bury shit on a frozen pond, until old Seth fixes him a couple of pink poontang specials. You know, that crazy drink that I fix for stewardesses? Two shots out of that and Hartman is shot to shit, freaked out. I mean, I never saw a guy having so much fun and crying at the same time!
Maxwell: Drake, now, takes out a bunch of those fake dicks.
Maxwell: That's not gross! Shit, gross is when you go to kiss your grandpa good night and he sticks his tongue down your throat. That's gross! Anyway, he's got one that's about 8 inches long and pink, and its got these little crinkles in it, and its got this grinder that makes it go in and out . . .
Phillip Elliott: Hell coach, I love needles.
Charlotte: Do you love me? Phil Elliott: Sorta.