Breaking Bad – Series Quotes

135 quotes
Breaking Bad
Year: 
2008 – 2013
Tagline: 
«In the no-holds-barred world of Walt White, the end justifies the extreme. (season 2)»
Country: 
USA
Genres: 
Drama, Crime, Thriller

A high school chemistry teacher diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer turns to manufacturing and selling methamphetamine in order to secure his family's future.

I have spent my whole life scared. Frightened of things that could happen, might happen, might not happen. 50 years I spent like that. Finding myself awake at 3 in the morning. But you know what? Ever since my diagnosis... I sleep just fine. And I came to realize it's that fear that's the worst of it. That's the real enemy. So... get up. Get out in the real world. And you kick that bastard as hard as you can right in the teeth.

I have spent my whole life scared. Frightened of things that could happen, might happen, might not happen. 50 years I spent like that. Finding myself awake at 3 in the morning. But you know what? Ever since my diagnosis... I sleep just fine. And I came to realize it's that fear that's the worst of it. That's the real enemy. So... get up. Get out in the real world. And you kick that bastard as hard as you can right in the teeth.
I have spent my whole life scared. Frightened of things that could happen, might happen, might not happen. 50 years I spent like that. Finding myself awake at 3 in the morning. But you know what? Ever since my diagnosis... I sleep just fine. And I came to realize it's that fear that's the worst of it. That's the real enemy. So... get up. Get out in the real world. And you kick that bastard as hard as you can right in the teeth.
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— You're out on the town. Yeah, you're partying hearty. You're knocking boots with the chicky babes. Oh, who's this? It's the tax man. And he's looking at you. Now, what does he see? He sees a young fellow with a big fancy house... unlimited cash supply and no job. Now, what is the conclusion the tax man makes?
— I'm a drug dealer.
— Wrong. Million times worse. You're a tax cheat.

- You're out on the town. Yeah, you're partying hearty. You're knocking boots with the chicky babes. Oh, who's this? It's the tax man. And he's looking at you. Now, what does he see? He sees a young fellow with a big fancy house... unlimited cash supply and no job. Now, what is the conclusion the tax man makes?
- I'm a drug dealer.
- Wrong. Million times worse. You're a tax cheat.
- You're out on the town. Yeah, you're partying hearty. You're knocking boots with the chicky babes. Oh, who's this? It's the tax man. And he's looking at you. Now, what does he see? He sees a young fellow with a big fancy house... unlimited cash supply and no job. Now, what is the conclusion the tax man makes?
- I'm a drug dealer.
- Wrong. Million times worse. You're a tax cheat.
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These doctors... talking about surviving. One year, two years, like it's the only thing that matters. But what good is it, to just survive if I am too sick to work, to enjoy a meal, to make love? For what time I have left, I want to live in my own house. I want to sleep in my own bed. I don't wanna choke down 30 or 40 pills every single day, lose my hair, and lie around, too tired to get up... and so nauseated that I can't even move my head.

These doctors... talking about surviving. One year, two years, like it's the only thing that matters. But what good is it, to just survive if I am too sick to work, to enjoy a meal, to make love? For what time I have left, I want to live in my own house. I want to sleep in my own bed. I don't wanna choke down 30 or 40 pills every single day, lose my hair, and lie around, too tired to get up... and so nauseated that I can't even move my head.
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— I used to be a beat cop, a long time ago. I'd get called on domestic disputes all the time. Hundreds, probably, over the years. But there was this one guy, this one of shit that I will never forget. Gordie. He looked like Bo Svenson. You remember him? Walking Tall? You don't remember?
— No.
— Anyway, big boy, 270, 280... but his wife... Or whatever she was... His lady... was real small. Like a bird. Wrists like little branches. Anyway, my partner and I'd get called out there... every weekend... and one of us would pull her aside and say: «Come on, tonight's the night we press charges». This wasn't one of those «deep down, he loves me» setups. We got a lot of those, but not this. This girl was scared. She wasn't gonna cross him. No way, no how. Nothing we could do but pass her to the EMT's, put him a car... drive him downtown, throw him in a drunk tank. He sleeps it off, next morning, out he goes. Back home. But one night... my partner's out sick, and it's just me. The call comes in and it's the usual crap. Broke her nose in the shower kind of thing. So I cuff him, put him in the car and away we go. Only that night... we're driving into town... and this sideways asshole is in my back seat humming «Danny Boy». And it just rubbed me wrong. So instead of left, I go right, out into nowhere. And I kneel him down and I put my revolver in his mouth... and I told him, «This is it. This is how it ends». And he's crying, going to the bathroom all over himself. Swearing to God he's gonna leave her alone. Screaming, much as you can with a gun in your mouth. And I told him to be quiet. That I needed to think about what I was gonna do here. And, of course, he got quiet... goes still and real quiet. Like a dog waiting for dinner scraps. Then we just stood there for a while. Me, acting like I'm thinking things over... and Prince Charming kneeling in the dirt with shit in his pants. And after a few minutes, I took the gun out of his mouth... and I say, «So help me, if you ever touch her again... I will such and such and such, and blah, blah, blah».
— It was just a warning?
— Of course. Just trying to do the right thing. But two weeks later he killed her. Of course. Caved her head in with the base of a Waring blender. We got there, there was so much blood, you could taste the metal. Moral of the story is... I chose a half measure... when I should have gone all the way. I'll never make that mistake again. No more half measures, Walter.

- I used to be a beat cop, a long time ago. I'd get called on domestic disputes all the time. Hundreds, probably, over the years. But there was this one guy, this one of shit that I will never forget. Gordie. He looked like Bo Svenson. You remember him? Walking Tall? You don't remember?
- No.
- Anyway, big boy, 270, 280... but his wife... Or whatever she was... His lady... was real small. Like a bird. Wrists like little branches. Anyway, my partner and I'd get called out there... every weekend... and one of us would pull her aside and say: «Come on, tonight's the night we press charges». This wasn't one of those «deep down, he loves me» setups. We got a lot of those, but not this. This girl was scared. She wasn't gonna cross him. No way, no how. Nothing we could do but pass her to the EMT's, put him a car... drive him downtown, throw him in a drunk tank. He sleeps it off, next morning, out he goes. Back home. But one night... my partner's out sick, and it's just me. The call comes in and it's the usual crap. Broke her nose in the shower kind of thing. So I cuff him, put him in the car and away we go. Only that night... we're driving into town... and this sideways asshole is in my back seat humming «Danny Boy». And it just rubbed me wrong. So instead of left, I go right, out into nowhere. And I kneel him down and I put my revolver in his mouth... and I told him, «This is it. This is how it ends». And he's crying, going to the bathroom all over himself. Swearing to God he's gonna leave her alone. Screaming, much as you can with a gun in your mouth. And I told him to be quiet. That I needed to think about what I was gonna do here. And, of course, he got quiet... goes still and real quiet. Like a dog waiting for dinner scraps. Then we just stood there for a while. Me, acting like I'm thinking things over... and Prince Charming kneeling in the dirt with shit in his pants. And after a few minutes, I took the gun out of his mouth... and I say, «So help me, if you ever touch her again... I will such and such and such, and blah, blah, blah».
- It was just a warning?
- Of course. Just trying to do the right thing. But two weeks later he killed her. Of course. Caved her head in with the base of a Waring blender. We got there, there was so much blood, you could taste the metal. Moral of the story is... I chose a half measure... when I should have gone all the way. I'll never make that mistake again. No more half measures, Walter.
- I used to be a beat cop, a long time ago. I'd get called on domestic disputes all the time. Hundreds, probably, over the years. But there was this one guy, this one of shit that I will never forget. Gordie. He looked like Bo Svenson. You remember him? Walking Tall? You don't remember?
- No.
- Anyway, big boy, 270, 280... but his wife... Or whatever she was... His lady... was real small. Like a bird. Wrists like little branches. Anyway, my partner and I'd get called out there... every weekend... and one of us would pull her aside and say: «Come on, tonight's the night we press charges». This wasn't one of those «deep down, he loves me» setups. We got a lot of those, but not this. This girl was scared. She wasn't gonna cross him. No way, no how. Nothing we could do but pass her to the EMT's, put him a car... drive him downtown, throw him in a drunk tank. He sleeps it off, next morning, out he goes. Back home. But one night... my partner's out sick, and it's just me. The call comes in and it's the usual crap. Broke her nose in the shower kind of thing. So I cuff him, put him in the car and away we go. Only that night... we're driving into town... and this sideways asshole is in my back seat humming «Danny Boy». And it just rubbed me wrong. So instead of left, I go right, out into nowhere. And I kneel him down and I put my revolver in his mouth... and I told him, «This is it. This is how it ends». And he's crying, going to the bathroom all over himself. Swearing to God he's gonna leave her alone. Screaming, much as you can with a gun in your mouth. And I told him to be quiet. That I needed to think about what I was gonna do here. And, of course, he got quiet... goes still and real quiet. Like a dog waiting for dinner scraps. Then we just stood there for a while. Me, acting like I'm thinking things over... and Prince Charming kneeling in the dirt with shit in his pants. And after a few minutes, I took the gun out of his mouth... and I say, «So help me, if you ever touch her again... I will such and such and such, and blah, blah, blah».
- It was just a warning?
- Of course. Just trying to do the right thing. But two weeks later he killed her. Of course. Caved her head in with the base of a Waring blender. We got there, there was so much blood, you could taste the metal. Moral of the story is... I chose a half measure... when I should have gone all the way. I'll never make that mistake again. No more half measures, Walter.
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