The complete quote goes like this:
My favorite part being the punch threat.
I’ve got to check that out on The Incredibles Dvd.
Hercule Poirot: Good. I have one more thing to say. Somewhere, in that village, we have a murderer at large. That is not a very safe thing to have.
Maude Williams: Warning me?
Hercule Poirot: Yes.
Maude Williams: I can take care of myself.
Hercule Poirot: That, might be classed under the heading of Famous Last Words.
Mrs. McGinty’s Dead
That’s my favorite part too.
“Crazy Little Thing Called Love.”
- Queen
After the Funeral
“It’s all so beautiful.”
- Queen - A Winter’s Tale
“London smells like Grandma!”
Albino Pirate,Pirates in an adventure with scientists.
“Human nature is much the same everywhere, is it not?”
Miss Marple
“I have always been a storm.”
—Fleetwood Mac
“Without Jimmy [Page], it would have been no good. When people talk about how good other guitarists are, they’re talking about how they play within the accepted structures of contemporary guitar playing, which Pagey plays miles outside of. I like to think of it as…a little left of heaven.”
- Robert Plant
“I always believe the worst. What is so sad is that one is usually justified in doing so.”
Miss Marple.
“Blues and Rock ‘n’ Roll rule.”
- Myself
“All I have is my love of love—and love is not loving.”
—David Bowie
Angelica: I wonder…does it work because it works, or because you believe that it works?
Jack Sparrow: Or because I want you to believe that it works?
Angelica: Or because you want me to believe you are only pretending for it to work when in fact, it does?
On Stranger Tides
“We now interrupt this scene to bring you a pointless shot of the Enterprise” -Star Trek Rifftrax
"The song is over
It’s all behind me
I should have known it
She tried to find me
Our love is over
They’re all ahead now
I’ve got to learn it
I’ve got to sing out
chorus:
I’ll sing my song to the wide open spaces
I’ll sing my heart out to the infinite sea
I’ll sing my visions to the sky high mountains
I’ll sing my song to the free, to the free
I’ll sing my song to the wide open spaces
I’ll sing my heart out to the infinite sea
I’ll sing my visions to the sky high mountains
I’ll sing my song to the free, to the free
When I walked in through the door
Thought it was me I was looking for
She was the first song I ever sang
But it stopped as soon as it began
Our love is over
It’s all behind me
They’re all ahead now
Can’t hope to find me
This song is over
I’m left with only tears
I must remember
Even if it takes a million years
The song is over
The song is over
except in one note, pure and easy
Playing so free like a breath rippling by."
- The Who - The Song Is Over
Inspector Sharpe: For heaven’s sake, Poirot. You are making my head spin! Is nobody incapable of murder?
Hercule Poirot: I have often wondered.
Hickory, Dickory, Dock.
"They flutter behind you your possible pasts,
Some bright-eyed and crazy, some frightened and lost.
A warning to anyone still in command
[Cattle truck noises]
“Ranks! Fire!”
Of their possible future, to take care.
In derelict sidings the poppies entwine
With cattle trucks lying in wait for the next time.
Do you remember me? How we used to be?
Do you think we should be closer?
She stood in the doorway, the ghost of a smile
Haunting her face like a cheap hotel sign.
Her cold eyes imploring the men in their macs
For the gold in their bags or the knives in their backs.
Stepping up boldly one put out his hand.
He said, “I was just a child then, now I’m only a man.”
Do you remember me? How we used to be?
Do you think we should be closer?
By the cold and religious we were taken in hand
Shown how to feel good and told to feel bad.
Tongue tied and terrified we learned how to pray
Now our feelings run deep and cold as the clay.
And strung out behind us the banners and flags
Of our possible pasts lie in tatters and rags.
Do you remember me? How we used to be?
Do you think we should be closer?"
- Pink Floyd - Your Possible Pasts
Dead Man’s Folly
"Take all your overgrown infants away somewhere
And build them a home, a little place of their own.
The Fletcher Memorial
Home for Incurable Tyrants and Kings.
And they can appear to themselves every day
On closed circuit T.V.
To make sure they’re still real.
It’s the only connection they feel.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, Reagan and Haig,
Mr. Begin and friend, Mrs. Thatcher, and Paisly,
“Hello Maggie!”
Mr. Brezhnev and party.
“Scusi dov’è il bar?”
The ghost of McCarthy,
The memories of Nixon.
“Who’s the bald chap?”
“Good-bye!”
And now, adding colour, a group of anonymous latin-
American meat packing glitterati.
Did they expect us to treat them with any respect?
They can polish their medals and sharpen their
Smiles, and amuse themselves playing games for awhile.
Boom boom, bang bang, lie down you’re dead.
Safe in the permanent gaze of a cold glass eye
With their favorite toys
They’ll be good girls and boys
In the Fletcher Memorial Home for colonial
Wasters of life and limb.
Is everyone in?
Are you having a nice time?
Now the final solution can be applied."
- Pink Floyd - The Fletcher Memorial Home (Roger Watera)