— Listen, has he ever had any kind of girl-friend, boyfriend, a relationship, ever?
— I don't know.
— How can we not know?
— He's Sherlock. How will we ever know what goes on in that funny old head?
You're one of those girls who uses self-deprecation as a defence mechanism, even though, without looking, you can tell how many guys are checking you out.
God! Banish the thought. Why don't you tell me that 'if the girl had been worth having she'd have waited for you'? No, sir, the girl really worth having won't wait for anybody.
Wonderful girl. Either I'm gonna kill her, or I'm beginning to like her.
Look, a guy doesn't gotta look like, uh, you know, Charlton Heston... I'm talking Moses days. To get a girl, all right? You just gotta have confidence. Confidence and, uh... And persistence.
I'm a girl. I'm a girl. I wish I were dead. I'm a girl... I'm a girl... I'm a girl...
— Move closer, you smell fantstic. You never would've let those breasts so near to me if I wasn't in a wheelchair.
— Oh yeah, well... You never would've been looking at this breasts if you hadn't been in a wheelchair.<...> I would've been over there serving the drinks. One of the invisibles. Am I right?
— Yes, but in my defence I was an arse.