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    Melinda Dillon Quotation







    Movie Title: Harry and the Hendersons (1987) as Nancy Henderson:



    Nancy Henderson : George, if I could have a word with you before The Carson Show calls?


    Sarah Henderson : Where's the roast?
    George Henderson : I'll go get it.
    Nancy Henderson : The roast is resting in a shallow unmarked grave in the backyard.
    George Henderson : Oh. Well, there's plenty of other stuff.
    Dr. Wallace Wrightwood : Are you vegetarians?
    George Henderson : Sometimes, it depends on the guest.


    Jerry Seville : Good morning Seattle!
    George Henderson : God I hate this guy.
    Nancy Henderson : I'll turn it off.
    George Henderson : No let me hate him. It'll keep me awake before the coffee kicks in.


    George Henderson : Nan, don't you like roughing it in the wild?
    Nancy Henderson : Roughing it? George, the only thing rough about it was when the generator went out in the middle of Masterpiece Theatre.

    [Looking in an anthropology book]
    George Henderson : That's Jaques LaFleur, a hunter who came in the store today.
    Nancy Henderson : No, that's Richard Smith, the forestry guy who came to our...House today. That lying bastard!

    Movie Title: Magnolia (1999) as Rose Gator:



    Rose Gator : You deserve to die alone for what you've done.





    Movie Title: Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) as Jillian Guiler:



    Jillian Guiler : [on the police inquiring about her missing son] They asked me if I'd seen any strangers in the neighborhood.





    Movie Title: A Christmas Story (1983) as Mother / Mom / Mrs. Parker:



    Mr. Parker : What is the name of the Lone Ranger's nephew's horse?
    Mother : Ah... Victor! His name is Victor.
    Mr. Parker : How the hell did you know that?
    Mother : Everybody knows that!

    Ralph 'Ralphie' Parker: I want an official Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle!
    Mrs. Parker : No, you'll shoot your eye out.


    Mr. Parker : Where's the glue?
    Mother : We're out of glue.
    Mr. Parker : You used up all the glue on purpose!


    Mr. Parker : It could be a bowling alley!
    Mother : How are they going to deliver a bowling alley here tonight?
    Mr. Parker : They'll send the deed for cripsake. I didn't expect them to send a whole damn bowling alley.


    Ralphie : Some men are Baptists, others Catholics, my father was an oldsmobile man.
    Mr. Parker : That son of a bitch would freeze up in the middle of summer on the equator!
    Mother : Little pitchers!
    Mr. Parker : Thanks... hold it! [the furnace conks out]
    Mr. Parker : It's a clinker! That blasted stupid furnace dadgummit! [he walks down a few stairs and falls the rest of the way down]
    Mr. Parker : Damn skates! (coughing) Oh for cripes sake open up the damper will ya? Who the hell turned it all the way down? AGAIN! Oh blasted!
    Ralphie : In the heat of battle my father wove a tapestry of obscenities that as far as we know is still hanging in space over Lake Michigan.

    [Mr. Parker reads a side of the box with the prize that he won]
    Mr. Parker : Ra-gee-lay. That must be Italian.
    Mrs. Parker : Uh, I think that says FRAGILE, dear.
    Mr. Parker : Oh, yeah.


    Mr. Parker : He looks like a deranged Easter Bunny.
    Mother : He does not!
    Mr. Parker : He does too, he looks like a pink nightmare!

    [overdressed for winter]
    Randy : I can't put my arms down!
    Mother : Well... put your arms down when you get to school.


    Mother : Randy? What's wrong? Whatcha cryin' for?
    Randy : Daddy's gonna kill Ralphie!
    Mother : No he's not...
    Randy : Yes he is!
    Mother : No, I promise, Daddy is not going to kill Ralphie!


    Mom : [Playing Santa] And this is for daddy... [Picks up a gift-wrapped bowling ball and drops it in The Old Man's Lap]
    Mom : Here, from me to you.
    The Old Man : [high-pitched] Thanks a lot!


    Mrs. Parker : Oh, Randy, don't play with your food. Eat it! Randy Parker: Aw, gee.
    Mrs. Parker : Starving people would be happy to have that.

       
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