Stud: What the fuck are you doing to me?
Renton: I was just fucking saving your life!
Stud: Save my life?! You ruined my fucking life, Mark. You ruined it! Now you're ruining my fucking death, too! Thanks a lot, amigo.
Simon: £16,000, to be divided in four equal parts. He ran off with it. Took it all. And now what does he think I am, a whore? He can just pay me off? £4,000, not even any interest. What am I supposed to do with that? Buy a fucking time machine? Live my life all over again?
Stud: You know, I need to detox the system.
Renton: Spud. "Detox the system." What does that even mean? It doesn't mean anything. It's not getting it out of your body that's the problem. It's getting it out of your mind. You are an addict.
Stud: You think I haven't heard that 100,000 times, Mark? You got 12 more steps for me, comrade?
Renton: So be addicted. Be addicted to something else.
Stud: Like running until I feel sick?
Renton: Yes. Or something else. You've got to channel it. You've got to control it. People try all sorts. Some people do boxing...
Stud: Boxing?
Renton: Well, it's just an example.
Veronika: You know nothing. You understand nothing. You live in the past. Where I come from the past is something to forget but here it's all you talk about. You are clearly so in love with each other that I feel awkward in your company.
Veronika: What's "choose life"?
Renton: What?
Veronika: "Choose life". Simon says it sometimes. He says "Choose life, Veronika."
Renton: "Choose life"... "Choose life" was a well-meaning slogan from a 1980s antidrug campaign. And we used to add things to it. So I might say, for example, choose... Designer lingerie in the vain hope of kicking some life back into a dead relationship. Choose handbags. Choose high-heeled shoes. Cashmere and silk to make yourself feel what passes for happy. Choose an iPhone made in China by a woman who jumped out of a window, and stick it in the pocket of your jacket fresh from a South Asian firetrap. Choose Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Instagram and a thousand other ways to spew your bile across people you've never met. Choose updating your profile. Tell the world what you had for breakfast and hope that someone, somewhere cares. Choose looking up old flames, desperate to believe that you don't look as bad as they do. Choose live-blogging from your first wank to your last breath. Human interaction reduced to nothing more than data. Choose ten things you never knew about celebrities who'd had surgery. Choose screaming about abortion. Choose rape jokes, slut shaming, revenge porn, and an endless tide of depressing misogyny. Choose 9/11 never happened, and if it did, it was the Jews. Choose a zero-hour contract and a two-hour journey to work, and choose the same for your kids, only worse. And maybe tell yourself it's better that they never happened. And then sit back and smother the pain with an unknown dose of an unknown drug made in somebody's fucking kitchen. Choose unfulfilled promise and wishing you'd done it all differently. Choose never learning from your own mistakes. Choose watching history repeat itself. Choose the slow reconciliation towards what you can get rather than what you always hoped for. Settle for less and keep a brave face on it. Choose disappointment. And choose losing the ones you loved. And as they fall from view, a piece of you dies with them. Until you can see that one day in the future, piece by piece, they will all be gone. And there'll be nothing left of you to call alive or dead. Choose your future, Veronika. Choose life. Anyway, it amused us at the time.
Veronika: "First, there is an opportunity. And then, there's a betrayal. And that's how it ends."
Begbie: World changes, eh, June? Even if we don't.
Begbie: World's all right for smart cunts, but what about me? What about fucking men like me? What do I get? All I can take with my bare hands. All I can get with my fists. Is that what I fucking get?... Who's the fucking smart cunt now?!
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+ Quotes on the IMDb
+ Soundtracks!
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