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Crocker: [reacting to Andy's anger about them, the movers, being late] You slept on the floor huh? We slept outside with the bugs and the wild animals. A bridge nearly killed us. Nobody knows where the hell Redbud is. And we haven't eaten since yesterday morning. So stay the hell out of our way and keep your mouth shut!
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Mickey: This ain't a bridge. It's termites holding hands.
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Andy Farmer: [Andy and Elizabeth are showing Redbud to prospective buyers Bud and Betsy after hiring the town to "act normal"] This is going to cost us a fortune.
Elizabeth Farmer: The fifty-dollar bonus was YOUR idea.
Andy Farmer: [smiling] Little slice of heaven, isn't it, Bud?
Elizabeth Farmer: The fifty-dollar bonus was YOUR idea.
Andy Farmer: [smiling] Little slice of heaven, isn't it, Bud?
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Crocker: [driving the moving van] You still got that map?
Mickey: Yeah.
Crocker: Don't lose it. It might be the piece of evidence that gets me off a murder charge.
Mickey: Who you gonna kill?
Crocker: The son of a bitch who drew that map.
Mickey: Yeah.
Crocker: Don't lose it. It might be the piece of evidence that gets me off a murder charge.
Mickey: Who you gonna kill?
Crocker: The son of a bitch who drew that map.
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Elizabeth Farmer: I'm willing to conceive that our marriage has been just a series of mutual betrayals! I know it! YOU know it! Even Yellow Dog knows it!
Andy Farmer: I know it and you know it! Yellow Dog doesn't even know what town he's in!
Andy Farmer: I know it and you know it! Yellow Dog doesn't even know what town he's in!
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Newspaper Editor: Andy, all my life I've dreamed of packing up and leaving the city and the newspaper business behind.
Reporter: What stopped you, Jack?
Newspaper Editor: And moving to some quiet little town in the country and putting down on paper the novel I know I have inside me.
Reporter: That's not a novel, Jack, its heartburn.
Reporter: What stopped you, Jack?
Newspaper Editor: And moving to some quiet little town in the country and putting down on paper the novel I know I have inside me.
Reporter: That's not a novel, Jack, its heartburn.
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As a novelist, I turned out to be a pretty good sportswriter.
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Being a fake is what I do best.
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Call me Mr. Lamb Fries!
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Cue the deer.
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Remember, Mrs. Farmer. Whenever you buy a house, whatever's in the ground belongs to you - whether it's gold or oil... or Claude Musselman. (starts chuckling)
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We came to Redbud filled with hopes and dreams of a better life. And basically, we've seen those hopes and dreams crushed and battered before our very eyes.
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What's going on, Andy...? You're sinking into a pit of self-pity, defeatism, and alcohol... and you're enjoying it!
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When they say hardwood floors, what they really mean is hard, wood floors.
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You don't know a damn thing about writing! You're a goddamn schoolteacher, not an editor!