**** Dante ... goddamn poetry-writing ****! Piece of shit, ****er!
Se7en (1995) · 54 quotes
Most-quoted character in Se7en (1995): in 30 of its 54 quotes
Most scenes with: William Somerset (11), John Doe (6), Mark Swarr (3)
I've been trying to figure something in my head, and maybe you can help me out, yeah? When a person is insane, as you clearly are, do you know that you're insane? Maybe you're just sitting around, reading Guns and Ammo, masturbating in your own feces. Do you just stop and go, "Wow! It is amazing how **** crazy I really am!"? Yeah, do you guys do that?
More lines from David Mills
8 quotesCome on, he's insane. Look, right now he's probably dancing around in his grandma's panties, yeah, rubbing himself in peanut butter.
I don't think you're quitting because you believe these things you say. I don't. I think you want to believe them because you're quitting. And you want me to agree with you, and you want me to say, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're right. It's all **** up. It's a **** mess. We should all go live in a **** log cabin." But I won't. I don't agree with you. I do not. I can't.
You're no messiah. You're a movie of the week. You're a **** T-shirt, at best.
He's **** with us! [Bends over a desk] See this? This is us.
What's in the box?
Who knows. So many freaks out there doin' their little evil deeds they don't wanna do... "The voices made me do it. My dog made me do it. Jodie Foster told me to do it."
****in' Dante. Goddamn poetry-writing ****, piece of shit, ****er! [A cop knocks on the car window and delivers an envelope of CliffsNotes] Good work, officer! Thank you, Lord.
Scenes with David Mills
21 scenesDavid Mills (picks up the phone): Hello?
I admire you. I don't know how you found me, but imagine my surprise. I respect you law enforcement agents more every day.
Well, I appreciate that, John. I tell you ...
No, no, you listen, all right? I'll be re-adjusting my schedule in light of today's little ... setback. I just had to call and express my admiration. Sorry I had to hurt ... one of you, but I really didn't have a choice, did I?
Hm.
You will accept my apology, won't you? I feel like saying more, but I don't want to ruin the surprise. [Hangs up]
Hey, loser.
Hi, idiot.
Do you like what you do for a living? These things you see?
No, I don't. But that's life.
William Somerset (to Tracy): Anyone who spends a significant amount of time with me finds me disagreeable. Just ask your husband.
Very true. Very, very true.
This guy's methodical, exacting, and worst of all, patient.
He's a nut-bag! Just because the ****er's got a library card doesn't make him Yoda!
Yeah, a landlord's dream: a paralyzed tenant with no tongue.
Who pays the rent on time.
I just don't think I can continue to live in a place that embraces and nurtures apathy as if it was virtue.
You're no different. You're no better.
I didn't say I was different or better. I'm not. Hell, I sympathize; I sympathize completely. Apathy is the solution. I mean, it's easier to lose yourself in drugs than it is to cope with life. It's easier to steal what you want than it is to earn it. It's easier to beat a child than it is to raise it. Hell, love costs: it takes effort and work.
It's more comfortable for you to label me as insane.
It's very comfortable.
Wait, I thought all you did was kill innocent people.
Innocent? Is that supposed to be funny? An obese man, a disgusting man who could barely stand up, a man who if you saw him on the street, you'd point him out to your friends so that they could join you in mocking him, a man, who if you saw him while you were eating, you wouldn't be able to finish your meal. After him, I picked the lawyer, and I know you both must have been secretly thanking me for that one. This is a man who dedicated his life to making money by lying with every breath that he could muster to keeping murderers and rapists on the streets!
Murderers?
A woman ...
Murderers, John, like yourself?
A woman, so ugly on the inside she couldn't bear to go on living if she couldn't be beautiful on the outside. A drug dealer, a drug-dealing pederast, actually! And let's not forget the disease-spreading whore! Only in a world this shitty could you even try to say these were innocent people and keep a straight face. But that's the point: we see a deadly sin on every street corner, in every home, and we tolerate it. We tolerate it because it's common, it's trivial. We tolerate it morning, noon, and night. Well, not anymore. I'm setting the example. What I've done is going to be puzzled over and studied and followed ... forever.
Realize, detective, the only reason that I'm here right now is that I wanted to be.
No, no, we would have got you eventually.
Oh, really? So, what were you doing? Biding your time? Toying with me? Allowing five innocent people to die until you felt like springing your trap? Tell me, what was the indisputable evidence you were going to use on me right before I walked up to you and put my hands in the air?
I seem to remember us knocking on your door.
Oh, that's right. And I seem to remember breaking your face.
What do you got?
Dead dog.
I didn't do that.
Police Captain (to Mills): What do you think?
I'm in.
It has to be both of you.
If he were to claim insanity, this conversation is admissible. The fact that he's blackmailing us with his plea ...
And my client reminds you, two more are dead. The press would have a field day if they found out the police didn't seem too concerned about finding them, giving them a proper burial.
If there really are two more dead.
Why us?
He says he admires you.
How is it working for a scumbag like this? You proud of yourself?
Ease back, Mills.
I'm required by law to serve my clients to the best of my ability, and to serve their best interests.
We'll just talk to him.
Uh-huh. Yeah. "Excuse me, sir. Are you, by any chance, a serial killer?" Okay.
You do the talking. Put that silver tongue of yours to work.
Have you been talking to my wife?
Now, I wasn't standing around guarding the Taco Bell, alright? I worked homicide for 5 years.
Not here.
I understand that.
Well, over the next 7 days, Detective, you'll do me the favor of remembering that.
You meant what you said to Mrs. Gould, didn't you? About catching this guy?
Yeah.
Hm. I wish I still thought the way you do.
Why don't you tell me what the hell it is you think we're doing, then?
Picking up the pieces. We're collecting all the evidence, taking all the pictures and samples, writing everything down, noting the time things happen.
That's all?
That's all. Putting everything into neat little piles and filing it away on the off chance it will ever be needed in the courtroom. Picking up diamonds on a deserted island, saving them in case we get rescued.
Bullshit!
Even the most promising clues usually only lead to others. So many corpses roll away un-revenged.
Don't try to tell me you didn't get that rush tonight. I saw you. We're getting somewhere.
Has he tried to speak or communicate in any way?
Even if his brain were not mush, which it is, he chewed off his own tongue long ago.
Uh... Doc, is there absolutely no chance that he might survive?
Detective, he'd die of shock right now if you were to shine a flashlight in his eyes. He's experienced about as much pain and suffering as anyone I've encountered, give or take... and he still has hell to look forward to. Good night.
Victor's landlord said there was an envelope of cash in the office mailbox the first of every month. Quote: "I never heard a single complaint from the tenant in apartment 306, and nobody ever complained about him. He's the best tenant I've ever had." End quote.
Yeah, a landlord's dream: a paralyzed tenant with no tongue.
Who pays the rent on time.
I'm sick of all this waiting!
This is the job.
Why aren't we out there, huh? Why we gotta sit here, rotting, waiting until the lunatic does it again?
It's dismissive to call him a lunatic. Don't make that mistake.
Come on, he's insane. Look, right now he's probably dancing around in his grandmother's panties, yeah, rubbing himself in peanut butter. Ooh. How's that?
I don't think so.
His luck will run out.
He's not depending on luck. We walked into that apartment exactly one year after he tied Victor to the bed. One year to the date. He wanted us to.
Don't know that for sure.
Oh yes, we do. This note he left, his first words to us: "Long is the way, and hard, that out of hell leads up to light."
**** him. So what?
He's right so far. Imagine the will it takes to keep a man bound for a full year, to sever his hand and use it to plant fingerprints, to insert tubes into his genitals. This guy's methodical, exacting, and worst of all, patient.
He's a nut-bag! Just because the ****er's got a library card doesn't make him Yoda.
Modern Homicide Investigation, In Cold Blood, Of Human Bondage … bondage?
Not what you think it is.
Okay. The Marquis de-Shaday …
It's the Marquis de Sade.
Whatever. The Writings of Saint Thomas Aqua-something.
Saint Thomas Aquinas? There it is. He wrote about the seven deadly sins. Is that it?
Yeah.
Let's try it.
Jonathan Doe?
Whatever.







