Good Will Hunting Quotes

Lambeau: You're angry at me for doing what you could have done; but ask yourself, Sean. Ask yourself if you want Will to feel that way, if you want him to feel like a failure.
Sean: Oh, you arrogant shit! That's why I don't come to the goddamned reunions, 'cause I can't stand that look in your eye. Ya know, that condescending, embarrassed look. You think I'm a failure. I know who I am, and I'm proud of what I do. I was a conscientious choice, I didn't fuck up! And you and your cronies think I'm some sort of pity case. You and your kiss-ass chorus following you around going, "The Fields Medal! The Fields Medal!" Why are you still so fuckin' afraid of failure?

Lambeau: Yeah, you were smarter than me then, and you're smarter than me now. So, don't blame me for how your life turned out.
Sean: I don't blame you! It's not about you, you mathematical dick! It's about the boy! He's a good kid! And I won't see you fuck him up like you're trying to fuck up me right now! I won't let you make feel like a failure too!

Mod fx... squared... dx. So please finish Parceval, by next time. I know many of you had this as undergraduates, but it won't hurt to brush up.

You're suspect! Yeah, you! I don't know what your reputation is in this town, but after the shit you tried to pull today you can bet I'll be looking into you. Now the business we have, heretofore, you can speak with my aforementioned attorney. Good day, gentlemen; and until that day comes, keep your ear to the grindstone.

Lambeau: Perrier.
Sean: That's French for "club soda."

Will: What the fuck do you want?
Lambeau: My name is Gerald Lambeau. The professor who you told to go fuck himself.
Will: Well, what the fuck do you want?

Sean: I knew you before you were a mathematical god, when you were pimple-faced and homesick and didn't know what side of the bed to piss on!
Lambeau: Yeah, you were smarter than me then and you're smarter than me now. So don't blame me for how your life turned out. It's not my fault.

Chuckie: I didn't get on Cathy last night.
Will: No?
Chuckie: Nah.
Will: Why not?
Chuckie: I don't know.
Chuckie: Cathy!
Cathy: What?
Chuckie: Why didn't you give me none of that nasty little hoochie-woochie you usually throw at me?
Cathy: Oh, fuck you and your Irish curse, Chuckie. Like I'd waste my energy spreading my legs for that Tootsie Roll dick? So go home and give it a tug yourself.

You're suspect! Yeah, you! I don't know what your reputation is in this town, but after the shit you tried to pull today you can bet I'll be looking into you. Now the business we have, heretofore, you can speak with my aforementioned attorney. Good day, gentlemen; and until that day comes, keep your ear to the grindstone.

Chuckie: Morgan, I'm not going to Kelly's just because you like the takeout girl. It's 15 minutes out of our way.
Morgan: What the fuck are we gonna do that we can't spare 15 minutes?

Chuckie: Wait, Bill. Hold it. Did you hear that?
Chuckie: Morgan! If you're watching pornos in my mom's room again, I'm gonna give you a fucking beating!
Morgan: What's up, fellas?
Billy: Morgan, why don't you jerk off in your own fucking house? Man, that's fucking filthy.
Morgan: I ain't got a VCR in my house.
Chuckie: Aw, c'mon, not on my glove.
Morgan: I didn't use the glove.
Chuckie: That's my Little League glove.
Morgan: What do you want me to do?
Chuckie: I mean, what's wrong with you? You'll hump a baseball glove?
Morgan: I was just using it for cleanup.
Chuckie: Stop jerking off in my mother's room!
Morgan: Ain't there another VCR in the house?
Chuckie: It's just sad, bro.

Chuckie: Morgan, I'm not going to Kelly's just because you like the takeout girl. It's 15 minutes out of our way.
Morgan: What the fuck are we gonna do that we can't spare 15 minutes?

Sean: Thought about what you said to me the other day, about my painting. Stayed up half the night thinking about it. Something occurred to me... fell into a deep peaceful sleep, and haven't thought about you since. Do you know what occurred to me?
Will: No.
Sean: You're just a kid, you don't have the faintest idea what you're talkin' about.
Will: Why thank you.
Sean: It's all right. You've never been out of Boston.
Will: Nope.
Sean: So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, "once more unto the breach dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. And look at you... I don't see an intelligent, confident man... I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you're a genius Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine, and you ripped my fucking life apart. You're an orphan right?
Sean: You think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you are, because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally... I don't give a shit about all that, because you know what, I can't learn anything from you, I can't read in some fuckin' book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. Then I'm fascinated. I'm in. But you don't want to do that do you sport? You're terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.

Chuckie: I didn't get on Cathy last night.
Will: No?
Chuckie: Nah.
Will: Why not?
Chuckie: I don't know.
Chuckie: Cathy!
Cathy: What?
Chuckie: Why didn't you give me none of that nasty little hoochie-woochie you usually throw at me?
Cathy: Oh, fuck you and your Irish curse, Chuckie. Like I'd waste my energy spreading my legs for that Tootsie Roll dick? So go home and give it a tug yourself.

What is this, a Taster's Choice moment between guys?

I'm pumped! Let the healing begin!

You dropped a hundred-and-fifty grand on a fuckin' education you coulda got for a dollar-fifty in late charges at the public library.

Will: [talking to Skylar in her dorm room] What do you wanna know? That I don't have 12 brothers? That I'm a fuckin' orphan? You don't wanna hear that... no, you don't wanna hear that. You don't wanna hear that I got fuckin' cigarettes put out on me when I was a little kid! That this
Will: is 'cause the motherfucker stabbed me! You don't wanna hear that shit, Skylar. Tell me you don't wanna hear that shit isn't fuckin' surgery!

You know, I was on this plane once. And I'm sittin' there and the captain comes on and he does his whole, "We'll be cruising at 35,000 feet," then he puts the mike down but he forgets to turn it off. Then he turns to the copilot and goes, "You know, all I could go for right now is a fuckin' blow job and a cup of coffee." So the stewardess fuckin' goes bombin' up from the back of the plane to tell him the mic's still on, and this guy behind me goes, "Hey, hon, don't forget the coffee!"

Will: Does this violate the doctor-patient relationship?
Sean: Not unless you grab my ass.

Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but I'll take a shot. Say I'm working at N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, 'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never met, never had no problem with, get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Oh, send in the Marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number got called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some kid from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes back to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile, he realizes the only reason he was over there in the first place was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And, of course, the oil companies used the skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices. A cute little ancillary benefit for them, but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. And they're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, of course, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and fuckin' play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So now my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's got to walk to the fuckin' job interviews, which sucks 'cause the shrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starvin', 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat, the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what did I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. I figure fuck it, while I'm at it why not just shoot my buddy, take his job, give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president.

Sean: My father was an alcoholic. Mean fuckin' drunk. He'd come home hammered, looking to whale on somebody. So I'd provoke him, so he wouldn't go after my mother and little brother. Interesting nights were when he wore his rings.
Will: He used to just put a belt, a stick, and a wrench on the table. Just say, "Choose."
Sean: Well I gotta go with the belt there.
Will: I used to go with the wrench.
Sean: Why the wrench?
Will: Cause fuck him, that's why.
Sean: Your foster father?
Will: Yeah.
Will: So, uh, what is it, like, Will has an attachment disorder? Is it all that stuff?
Will: Fear of abandonment? Is that why I broke up with Skylar?
Sean: I didn't know you had.
Will: Yeah, I did.
Sean: You wanna talk about it?
Will: No.
Sean: Hey, Will? I don't know a lot. You see this? All this shit?
Sean: It's not your fault.
Will: Yeah, I know that.
Sean: Look at me son.
Sean: It's not your fault.
Will: [Will nods] I know.
Sean: No. It's not your fault.
Will: I know
Sean: No, no, you don't. It's not your fault.
Sean: Hmm?
Will: I know.
Sean: It's not your fault.
Will: Alright.
Sean: It's not your fault.
Sean: It's not your fault.
Will: Don't fuck with me.
Will: Don't fuck with me, Sean, not you!
Sean: It's not your fault. It's not your fault.
Sean: Fuck them, ok?

Will: I don't care if Helen of Troy walks in the room, that's Game 6!
Sean: Oh, Helen of Troy...
Will: Oh my God; and who are these fuckin' friends of yours, they let you get away with that?
Sean: Oh... they had to.
Will: W-w-w-what'd you say to them?
Sean: I just slid my ticket across the table, and I said, "Sorry, guys; I gotta see about a girl."
Will: I gotta go see about a girl?
Sean: Yeah.
Will: That's what you said? And they let you get away with that?
Sean: Oh, yeah. They saw in my eyes that I meant it.
Will: You're kiddin' me.
Sean: No, I'm not kiddin' you, Will. That's why I'm not talkin' right now about some girl I saw at a bar twenty years ago and how I always regretted not going over and talking to her. I don't regret the 18 years I was married to Nancy. I don't regret the six years I had to give up counseling when she got sick. And I don't regret the last years when she got really sick. And I sure as hell don't regret missin' the damn game. That's regret.
Will: Wow... Woulda been nice to catch that game, though.
Sean: I didn't know Pudge was gonna hit a homer.