Jimmie Sue's Father:"Don't go near my daughter again. Don't try to see her. Don't write her and don't phone her."
Rigby Reardon:"Can I use her underwear to make soup?"
Burly Detective:"What do ya think, a gang hit, screwed-up drug score, unlucky John, or an unhappy love affair? Huh? Don't tell me this shit's gettin' to ya. Not Harry Callahan. Say it ain't so."
Harry Callahan:"No, this stuff isn't gettin' to me. The knifings, the beatings, old ladies being bashed in the head for their Social Security checks, teachers being thrown out of a fourth-floor window because they don't give As, that doesn't bother me a bit."
Burly Detective:"Come on, Harry. Take it easy."
Harry Callahan:"Or this job, either. Having to wade through the scum of this city, being swept away by bigger and bigger waves of corruption, apathy and red tape. Nah, that doesn't bother me. But you know what does bother me?"
Harry Callahan:"You know what makes me really sick to my stomach?"
Harry Callahan:"Is watching you stuff your face with those hot dogs. Nobody, I mean NOBODY puts ketchup on a hot dog.
I know this by no other name: Siput sedut.
A can of fiery ginger beer to cool down after a day of shopping in Paris. Ah the irony!
Rambutan juice at Pak Awie Restaurant, London.
Big fat pink meringues for my daughter.