Scent of a Woman

Lt. Col. Frank Slade:Ooh, but I still smell her...

Women! What can you say? Who made 'em? God must have been a fuckin' genius. The hair... They say the hair is everything, you know. Have you ever buried your nose in a mountain of curls... just wanted to go to sleep forever? Or lips... and when they touched, yours were like... that first swallow of wine... after you just crossed the desert. Tits. Hoo-ah! Big ones, little ones, nipples staring right out at ya, like secret searchlights. Mmm. Legs. I don't care if they're Greek columns... or secondhand Steinways. What's between 'em... passport to heaven. I need a drink. Yes, Mr Sims, there's only two syllables in this whole wide world worth hearing: pussy. Hah! Are you listenin' to me, son? I'm givin' ya pearls here.

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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: I'm gonna shoot you, too. Your life's finished anyway. Your friend George is gonna sing like a canary. And so are you. And once you've sung, Charlie, my boy, you're gonna take your place on that long, grey line of American manhood. And then you will be through.

Charlie Simms: I'd hate to disagree with you, Colonel.

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: You're in no position to disagree with me, boy. I got a loaded .45 here. You got pimples. I'm gonna kill you, Charlie, cause I can't bear the thought of you SELLIN' OUT!

Charlie Simms: Put the gun down, all right, Colonel?
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: What? You givin' me an ultimatum?
Charlie Simms: No, I'm...
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: I give the ultimatums!
Charlie Simms: I'm sorry. All right I'm sorry.

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(en video)
Donna: Ah, that's amazing.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Well, I'm in the amazing business.

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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Don't shrug, imbecile. I'm blind. Save your body language for the bimbi.

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Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Out of order, I show you out of order. You don't know what out of order is, Mr. Trask. I'd show you, but I'm too old, I'm too tired, I'm too fuckin' blind. If I were the man I was five years ago, I'd take a FLAMETHROWER to this place! Out of order? Who the hell do you think you're talkin' to? I've been around, you know? There was a time I could see. And I have seen. Boys like these, younger than these, their arms torn out, their legs ripped off. But there isn't nothin' like the sight of an amputated spirit. There is no prosthetic for that. You think you're merely sending this splendid foot soldier back home to Oregon with his tail between his legs, but I say you are... executin' his soul! And why? Because he's not a Bairdman. Bairdmen. You hurt this boy, you're gonna be Baird bums, the lot of ya. And Harry, Jimmy, Trent, wherever you are out there, FUCK YOU TOO!