Withnail and I

"I often wonder where Norman is now. Probably wintering with his mother in Guildford. A cat, and the rain... Vim under the sink, and both bars on. But old now, old. There can be no true beauty without decay."

"I'm preparing myself to forgive you. I think you've been punished enough. I think we better release you from the légume, and transfer your talents to the meat."

"I can never touch meat until it's cooked. As a youth, I used to weep in butchers' shops!"

"Come on lads, let's get home, the sky's beginning to bruise. Night must fall and we shall be forced to camp."

"Go with it. It's society's crime, not ours."

"You're looking very beautiful, man. You been away? St Peter preached the epistles to the apostles looking like that."

"I don't advise a haircut, man. All hairdressers are in the employment of the government. Hair are your aerials. They pick up signals from the cosmos and transmit them directly into the brain. This is the reason bald-headed men are uptight."

"Change down, man, find your neutral space. You got a rush. It will pass. Be seated."

"If you're hanging on to a rising balloon, you're presented with a difficult decision — let go before it's too late or hang on and keep getting higher, posing the question: how long can you keep a grip on the rope? They're selling hippie wigs in Woolworth's, man. The greatest decade in the history of mankind is over. And as Presuming Ed here has so consistently pointed out, we have failed to paint it black."

"I been watching you, especially you, prancing like a tit. You want working on, boy!"

"You are invited to spend an hilarious weekend in the English countryside."

"If you don't remember the sixties, don't worry — neither did they."