Scent of a Woman:
Whoo-ah.
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Women! What can you say? Who made 'em? God must have been a fuckin' genius. The hair... They say the hair is everything, you know. Have you ever buried your nose in a mountain of curls... just wanted to go to sleep forever? Or lips... and when they touched, yours were like... that first swallow of wine... after you just crossed the desert. Tits. Hoo-ah! Big ones, little ones, nipples staring right out at ya, like secret searchlights. Mmm. Legs. I don't care if they're Greek columns... or secondhand Steinways. What's between 'em... passport to heaven. I need a drink. Yes, Mr Sims, there's only two syllables in this whole wide world worth hearing: pussy. Hah! Are you listenin' to me, son? I'm givin' ya pearls here.
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Don't shrug, imbecile. I'm blind. Save your body language for the bimbi.
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Uh-oh, we got a moron here.
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Clear them little bottles off. And when I get off the phone here, call up Hyman and tell him I want it wall to wall with John Daniels.
Charlie Simms: Don't you mean Jack Daniels?
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: He may be Jack to you son, but when you've known him as long as I have... that's a joke.
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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Then, I'm going to lie down on my big beautiful bed, and blow my brains out.
Charlie Simms: Did I hear you right, colonel? You said you're going to kill yourself?
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: No. I said I'm going to blow my brains out.