Whiplash

& Fletcher: Were you rushing, or were you dragging? Answer!

& Fletcher: Oh my dear god. Are you one of those single tear people? Do I look like a double fucking rainbow to you?

& Andrew: I’m upset.
    Fletcher: Say it to the whole band can hear you.
    Andrew: I’m upset.
    Fletcher: Louder.
    Andrew: I’m upset.
    Fletcher: Louder!
    Andrew: I’m upset!
    Fletcher: You are a worthless friendless faggot-lipped little piece of shit whose mommy left daddy, when she figured out he wasn’t Eugene O’Neil and who’s now weeping and slobbering all over my drum set like a fucking nine-year-old girl. So for the final father fucking time... Say it louder!!!

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& Fletcher: Everybody remember, Lincoln Center and its ilk use these competitions to decide who they are interested in and who they are not. And I am not gonna have my reputation in that department tarnished by a bunch of fucking limp-dick, sour-note, flattered on their girlfriend’s flexible tempo dipshits. Got it?

& Fletcher: Truth is, I don’t think people... understood what it was I was doing at Shaffer. I wasn’t there to conduct. Any fucking moron can wave his arms and keep people in tempo. I was there to push people beyond what’s expected of them I believe that is... an absolute necessity. otherwise we’re depriving the world the next Louie Armstrong, the next Charlie Parker.

& Fletcher: ...So imagine if Jones just said «Well that’s ok Charlie. That was alright, good job.» and Charlie thinks to himself «Well, shit, I did a pretty good job.» End of story. No bird. That to me is an absolute tragedy. But that’s just what the world wants now. People wonder why Jazz is dying... I tell you man. Every Starbucks’ Jazz album just proved my point, really. There are no two words in English language more harmful than «good job».

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Σ Teacher's a Nazi.