Businessman: You don't like flying, do you?
John McClane: What gives you that idea?
Businessman: You want to know the secret to surviving air travel? After you get where you're going, take off your shoes and your socks then walk around on the rug bare foot and make fists with your toes.
John McClane: Fists with your toes?
Businessman: I know, it sounds crazy. Trust me, I've been doing it for nine years. Yessir, better than a shower and a hot cup of coffee.
John McClane: OK.
Businessman: [the businessman sees a gun in McClane's pocket]
John McClane: It's okay. I'm a cop. Trust me, I've been doing this for eleven years.
Harry Ellis: Hey babe, I negotiate million dollar deals for breakfast. I think I can handle this Eurotrash.
John McClane: You throw quite a party. I didn't realize they celebrated Christmas in Japan.
Joseph Takagi: Hey, we're flexible. Pearl Harbor didn't work out so we got you with tape decks.
[McClane watches fire trucks approach the building]
John McClane: C'mon baby, come ta' papa, I'll kiss ya' fuckin' dalmatian.
[stealing the dead terrorist's shoes]
John McClane: Nine million terrorists in the world and I gotta kill one with feet smaller than my sister.
[McClane tries to call up police]
Supervisor: Attention, whoever you are. This channel is reserved for emergency calls only...
John McClane: No fucking shit, lady. Do I sound like I'm ordering a pizza?
[Reading what McClane wrote on the dead terrorist's shirt]
Hans Gruber: "Now I have a machine gun. Ho ho ho."
[Hans' radio turns on]
Hans Gruber: I thought I told all of you, I want radio silence until further...
John McClane: Ooooh, I'm very sorry Hans. I didn't get that message. Maybe you should've put it on the bulletin board. I figured since I've waxed Tony and Marco and his friend here, I figured you and Karl and Franco might be a little lonely, so I decided to give you a call.
Hans Gruber: Eh, that's... very kind of you, considering you are a mysterious party crasher. You are most troublesome, for a security guard.
John McClane: Bzzzt. Sorry Hans, wrong guess. Would you like to go for Double Jeopardy where the scores can really change?
[Indicating cigarettes in dead man's pocket]
John McClane: Whoa, these are very bad for you.
Hans Gruber: Who are you then?
John McClane: Just a fly in the ointment, Hans. The monkey in the wrench. The pain in the ass.
[on the radio]
Hans Gruber: Mr. Mystery Guest? Are you still there?
John McClane: Yeah, I'm still here. Unless you wanna open the front door for me.
Hans Gruber: Uh, no I'm afraid not. But you have me at a loss. You know my name but who are you? Just another American who saw too many movies as a child? Another orphan of a bankrupt culture who thinks he's John Wayne? Rambo? Marshal Dillon?
John McClane: Was always kinda partial to Roy Rogers actually. I really dig those sequined shirts.
Hans Gruber: Do you really think you have a chance against us, Mr. Cowboy?
John McClane: Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker.
[repeated line]
John McClane: Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker.
Hans Gruber: "When Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept for there were no more worlds to conquer." The benefits of a classical education.
Dwayne T. Robinson: We don't know shit, Powell. If there's hostages in there, how come no one's come to us with ransom demands? If there's terrorists in there, where's their list of demands? All we know is that whoever shot your car up is probably the same silly sonofabitch you've been talking to on that radio.
Sergeant Al Powell: Excuse me sir. But what about the body that fell out the window?
Dwayne T. Robinson: Well who knows? Perhaps some stockbroker, got depressed.
[about McClane]
Sergeant Al Powell: In fact, I think he's a cop. Maybe not LAPD, but he's definitely a badge.
Dwayne T. Robinson: How do you know that?
Sergeant Al Powell: A hunch, things he said. Like being able to spot a phony ID.
Dwayne T. Robinson: Jesus Christ, Powell, he could be a fucking bartender for all we know.
FBI Agent Johnson: I'm Agent Johnson, this is Special Agent Johnson. No relation.
Hans Gruber: Attention Mr. Cowboy, or should I call you... McClane, Mr. McClane. Detective John McClane from the New York Police Department.
John McClane: A Nun called me Mr. McClane. My friends call me John, and you're neither dickhead.
Hans Gruber: There is someone that wants to talk to you.
Harry Ellis: [Hans hands him the walkie talkie] Hey, John boy.
John McClane: Ellis?
Harry Ellis: Listen buddy. I need you to tell these people where the detonators are.
John McClane: Ellis, what did you tell them?
Harry Ellis: I told them that you were my guest at the party. Look John, I know you are doing your job and I can appreciate it but, you're just dragging this thing out. Tell these people where the detonators are, or they're gonna kill me.
[Becoming serious]
Harry Ellis: I think you can get with the program here John, the police are here it's their problem. Just tell these poeple where the detonators are so no-one else gets hurt, you know I'm putting my life on the line for you, pal.
John McClane: Ellis.
Harry Ellis: John?
John McClane: Shut up Ellis, just shut your mouth. Put Hans back on the line.
[Ellis hands the walkie talkie back to Hans]
John McClane: Hans, this shithead doesn't know what kind of man you are but I do.
Hans Gruber: Good. Then, you tell me where the detonators are and save your friend's life, you're not a part of this equation, this time you realize that.
[Hans presents his gun]
Harry Ellis: Hey, what am I, a madthodachor Hans? C'mon put the gun away, this is radio, not television.
John McClane: [nervously yelling] Hans, this asshole is not my friend, I just met him tonight, I don't know him. Jesus Christ, Ellis these people are gonna kill you, tell them, you don't know me.
Harry Ellis: C'mon John, how can you say that after all these years? John?
[gets no response]
Harry Ellis: John?
[still gets no response, then laughs slightly, then Hans shoots Ellis in the head]
Hans Gruber: [Puts the walkie talkie into the screaming crowd] Hear that? Talk to me, where are my detonators? Where are they, or shall I shoot another one? Sooner or later, I'll reach someone you "do" care about.
John McClane: Go fuck yourself, Hans.
Harry Ellis: Business is business. You use a gun, I use a fountain pen. What's the difference?
[Hans and Karl return to where the hostages are being held. Karl smashes a table of glasses in fury]
Ginny: Whoa. That guy looks REALLY pissed.
Holly Gennero McClane: He's still alive.
Ginny: What?
Holly Gennero McClane: Only John can drive somebody that crazy.
[Trying to get the German Terrorist's attention]
Harry Ellis: Hey, sprechen ze talk?
Dwayne T. Robinson: I got a hundred people down here, and they're all covered in glass.
John McClane: Glass? Who gives a shit about glass? Who the fuck is this?
Dwayne T. Robinson: This is Deputy Chief Dwayne T. Robinson, and I am in charge here.
John McClane: Oh you're in charge? Well, I got news for you *Dwayne*, from up here it doesn't look like you're in charge of jack shit.
Dwayne T. Robinson: You listen to me, you little asshole...
John McClane: Asshole? I'm not the one who just got butt-fucked on national TV, *Dwayne*. Now you listen to me jerk-off, if you're not a part of the solution, you're a part of the problem. Quit being a part of the fucking problem and put the other guy back on!
[McClane, before jumping from the roof]
John McClane: I promise I will never even THINK about going up in a tall building again. Oh, God. Please don't let me die.
Harry Ellis: [watching the terrorists in deep discussion] What do you think?
Holly Gennero McClane: Something's wrong.
Harry Ellis: Cops?
Holly Gennero McClane: [pauses] John.
Harry Ellis: John? Oh, Christ, he's gonna fuck this whole thing up! What the hell does he think he's doing?
Holly Gennero McClane: His job.
Harry Ellis: Bullshit! His job's three thousand miles away. Without him, we still have a chance of getting out of here.
Holly Gennero McClane: Tell that to Takagi.
John McClane: Son of a bitch! Fist with your toes.
