The Wall

Isaac: I’m just saying, that wall’s cursed.
Matthews: It’s a wall, man. You’re scared of a fucking wall?
Isaac: Nah, I’m scared of what’s behind it.

Isaac: These guys were fucking contractors. Not here to fight. War’s over, bro.
Juba: Bro?
Isaac: Whatever, man.
Juba: It’s an interesting choice of words. And yet I disagree with you, bro. The war’s not over. Definitely not for you.

Isaac: You say... you say a lot of fucking fancy words. What are you, Ha... Hajji Shakespeare or some shit?
Juba: Shakespeare? Military lingo is all poetry. Battle rattle, ghetto grip. Johnny Jihad, friendly fire. Your turn, Isaac. Or should I say «Ize»?

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Isaac: So, we trained you, obviously. Learn how to shoot, trajectory, zeroing the rifle, no reloads between shots. Learned all that shit and then betrayed us?
Juba: Depends on the angle you look at it from.
Isaac: Only one angle.
Juba: Yes, as I’d expect you to say.

Isaac: No. Tell me you’re my enemy... fine, I’ll respect that. We kill, you kill. But say you’re my friend... and shoot me in the back, the only angle I see is a fucking snake.
Juba: But if this friend shoots you in the back and you survive... is it okay to shoot him back?

Isaac: From a place you will not see... comes a sound you will not hear. Just a flash of fucking light. Boom.

Juba: You don’t want to go home, do you?
Isaac: The fuck’s that mean, man?
Juba: The war’s over. You’re still here. Why?

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On the IMDb