Allison Reynolds: When you grow up, your heart dies.
John: So, who cares?
Allison Reynolds: I care.
Brian: I just wanna tell each of you that I wouldn’t do that…I wouldn’t and I will not! ‘Cause I think that’s real shitty.Claire: Your friends wouldn’t mind because they look up to us.Brian: You’re so conceited, Claire. You’re so conceited. You’re so, like, full of yourself; why are you like that?Claire: [teary] I’m not saying that to be conceited! I hate it! I hate having to go along with everything my friends say!Brian: Well then why do you do it?Claire: I don’t know, I don’t—you don’t understand…you don’t. You’re not friends with the same kind of people that Andy and I are friends with! You know, you just don’t understand the pressure that they can put on you!Brian: I don’t understand what? You think I don’t understand pressure, Claire? Well fuck you! Fuck you! [Brian breaks down and begins to cry.] Know why I’m here today? Do you?! I’m here because Mr. Ryan found a gun in the locker.Andrew: Why’d you have a gun in your locker?Brian: I tried. You pull the fuckin’ trunk on it and the light’s s’posed to go on…and it didn’t go on, I mean, I…Andrew: What’s the gun for Brian?Brian: Just forget it.Andrew: You brought it up, man!Brian: I can’t have an F, I can’t have it and I know my parents can’t have it. Even if I aced the rest of the semester, I’m still only a B. And everything’s ruined for me.Claire: Oh, Brian…Brian: Fuck! So I considered my options, you know?Claire: No! Killing yourself is not an option!Brian: Well I didn’t do it, did I? No, I don’t think so!Allison: It was a hand gun?Brian: No, it was a flare gun, went off in my locker.Andrew: Really? [starts to laugh]Brian: It’s not funny…[Andrew tries to stop, but he continues laughing and everyone else begins to laugh.]Brian: [laughing as well] Yes it is. Fuckin’ elephant was destroyed!Allison: You wanna know what I did to get in here? Nothing; I didn’t have anything better to do.[Everyone continues to laugh, now at Allison.]Allison: You’re laughing at me!Andrew: No…!Allison: Yes, you are!
Brian Johnson: Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. But we think you’re crazy to make an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us - in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain…
Andrew Clark: …and an athlete…
Allison Reynolds: …and a basket case…
Claire Standish: …a princess…
John Bender: …and a criminal…
Brian Johnson: Does that answer your question? Sincerely yours, the Breakfast Club.
Mark “Rent-boy” Renton: Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suit on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves. Choose your future. Choose life… But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?
Mark “Rent-boy” Renton: Excuse me, excuse me. I don’t mean to harass you, but I was very impressed with the capable and stylish manner in which you dealt with that situation. And I was thinking to myself, now this girl’s special.
Diane: Thanks.
Mark “Rent-boy” Renton: What’s your name?
Diane: Diane.
Mark “Rent-boy” Renton: And where are you going, Diane?
Diane: I’m going home.
Mark “Rent-boy” Renton: Well, where’s that?
Diane: It’s where I live.
Mark “Rent-boy” Renton: Great.
Diane: What?
Mark “Rent-boy” Renton: Well, I’ll come back with you if you like, but like, I’m not promising anything, you know.
Diane: Do you find that this approach usually works? Or let me guess, you’ve never tried it before. In fact, you don’t normally approach girls - am I right? The truth is that you’re a quiet sensitive type but, if I’m prepared to take a chance, I might just get to know the inner you: witty, adventurous, passionate, loving, loyal. Taxi! A little bit crazy, a little bit bad. But hey - don’t us girls just love that?
Mark “Rent-boy” Renton: Eh?
Diane: Well, what’s wrong boy - cat got your tongue?
Mark “Rent-boy” Renton: We took morphine, diamorphine, cyclizine, codeine, temazepam, nitrazepam, phenobarbitone, sodium amytal, dextropropoxyphene, methadone, nalbuphine, pethidine, pentazocine, buprenorphine, dextromoramide, chlormethiazole. The streets are awash with drugs you can have for unhappiness and pain, and we took them all. Fuck it, we would have injected vitamin C if only they’d made it illegal.
Tommy: Doesn’t it make you proud to be Scottish?
Mark “Rent-boy” Renton: It’s SHITE being Scottish! We’re the lowest of the low. The scum of the fucking Earth! The most wretched, miserable, servile, pathetic trash that was ever shat into civilization. Some hate the English. I don’t. They’re just wankers. We, on the other hand, are COLONIZED by wankers. Can’t even find a decent culture to be colonized BY. We’re ruled by effete assholes. It’s a SHITE state of affairs to be in, Tommy, and ALL the fresh air in the world won’t make any fucking difference!
Mark “Rent-boy” Renton: Here I was surrounded by my family and my so-called mates, and I’ve never felt so alone, never in all my puff