The unlucky are nothing more than a frame of reference for the lucky, Mr. Fisher. You are unlucky so I may know that I am not. Unfortunately, the lucky never realize they are lucky until it's too late. Take yourself for instance. Yesterday you were better off than you are today, but it took today for you to realize it. But... today has arrived, and it's too late, you see?
Now really, David. You're far too intelligent to go on this way. When you return to America I want you to seek out a competent psychiatrist or psychologist or something and stop this nonsense. You'll be leaving this hospital in three or four days, please remain sane. At least until you are no longer our responsibility.
Victoria : Have you seen my father at the Institute? Is he all right? Dr. Thorndyke: He's fine, he's fine. He's coming along just fine. He's very affectionate. He licked me. Victoria: He what? Dr. Thorndyke: Well, he thinks he's a dog these days.
Peter: Yep. Now here's the plan. You'll enter through the air conditioning duct here. Now, there'll be an invisible laser grid three inches above the floor. So you'll have to compress your body to the size of a household sponge and slide underneath like some kind of weird amphibious dolphin.
The wire transfer came straight through from Kentucky, and the bank has agreed to gap-finance the rest. But there are a few hooks on it, so take a pew for a spell. Number one, the bank wants a drug screen for everybody on the boat, before they'll forward the money.
Peter: Oh, oh. Funny sailing story. All right, this guy's on his boat, in the middle of the ocean, right, and he sees a little black dog. And let me tell you, this dog's been swimming for days, and he stinks like a dead otter, right?
Lois: Peter, maybe this isn't the place for...
Peter: Hang on, Lois, hang on. So the guy takes the dog into the vet. And the freakin' vet tells him, get this, "It's not a dog. It's a rat." A big, stinkin' Mexican rat. True story.