Terminal

Bill: ...So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
Annie: Naughty? As in spank me gently, I've been a naughty girl?
Bill: No, not that kind of naughty.
Annie: As in tie me to the bedposts because I've been so naughty?
Bill: I think that qualifies as the same kind of naughty.
Annie: I know. I just enjoy watching you fidget when I say "naughty."

Vince: Ten, twenty, thirty. We all right, son?
Clinton: When rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones make what price they will.
Vince: Come again?
Clinton: I want more money.
Vince: .... You know, when rich villains get pissed off with poor ones overcharging them, they go round their house, they burn it, they murder their family.
Clinton: Terminal Train Lines thanks you for your business and wishes you a pleasant evening.

Annie: Let's have a cup of tea and plot our bloody revenge. You tidy that up. I'll put the kettle on... partner.

Annie: ...Pathetic fallacy.
Bill: Whinging librarian.
Annie: Excuse me?
Bill: No, that's what that's called, when emotional turmoil is reflected in tangible surroundings. Like two lovers go their separate ways in a rainstorm, or lightning strikes as the murderer's revealed. It adds gravitas. It would hardly be as nerve-wracking if the serial killer stabbed his victim to death in a sunny park, would it? Much better in a dark alley in a mist.
Annie: My God, you are wasted as a teacher.

Bill: You are insane, certifiably.

Annie: What is the worst that could've happened, Bill? You'd be dead. It would all be over. No more pain, no more suffering. No more waiting for a train that isn't coming... What if I had just let you fall?

Clinton: Curiouser and curiouser.

Annie: There are two things in life for which we are never truly prepared... Twins.

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