Sean Connery Monologues

Peachy, I'm heartily ashamed for gettin' you killed instead of going home rich like you deserved to, on account of me bein' so bleedin' high and bloody mighty. Can you forgive me?

Now listen to me you benighted muckers. We're going to teach you soldiering. The world's noblest profession. When we're done with you, you'll be able to slaughter your enemies like civilized men.

You are going to become soldiers. A soldier does not think. He only obeys. Do you really think that if a soldier thought twice he'd give his life for queen and country? Not bloody likely.

We'll get your riflemen, Peachy, and we'll come back and slaughter the dogs! A drenching in their own blood we'll give them! Riflemen, prepare to advance!

Just looking, Peachy. There's such a thing as admiring beauty for its own sake.

Not for us, thank you. Not after watching Afghans come howling down out of the hills and taking battlefield command when all the officers had copped it.

The more tribes, the more they'll fight, and the better for us.

In any place where they fight, a man who knows how to drill men can always be a King. We shall go to those parts and say to any King we find - "D'you want to vanquish your foes?' and we will show him how to drill men; for that we know better than anything else. Then we will subvert that King and seize his Throne and establish a Dynasty.

Of woman? Thomas Aquinas knew precious little, but the scriptures are very clear. Proverbs warns us, "Woman takes possession of a man's precious soul", while Ecclesiastes tells us, "More bitter than death is woman".

Well, of course I don't have the benefit of your experience, but I find it difficult to convince myself that God would have introduced such a foul being into creation without endowing her with some virtures. Hmm? How peaceful life would be without love, Adso, how safe, how tranquil, and how dull.

How many more rooms? Ah! How many more books? No one should be forbidden to consult these books freely.

No, it's not that, Adso. It's because they often contain a wisdom that is different from ours and ideas that could encourage us to doubt the infallability of the word of God... And doubt, Adso, is the enemy of faith.

And there's nothing in the Scriptures to say that he did not. Why, even the saints have been known to employ comedy, to ridicule the enemies of the Faith. For example, when the pagans plunged St. Maurice into the boiling water, he complained that his bath was too cold. The Sultan put his hand in... scalded himself.

The only evidence I see of the antichrist here is everyones desire to see him at work.

My dear Adso, we must not allow ourselves to be influenced by irrational rumors of the Antichrist, hmm? Let us instead exercise our brains and try to solve this tantalizing conundrum.

I too was an Inquisitor, but in the early days, when the Inquisition strove to guide, not to punish. And once I had to preside at a trial of a man whose only crime was to have translated a Greek book that conflicted with the Holy Scriptures. Bernardo Gui wanted him condemned as a heretic; I - acquitted the man. Then Bernardo Gui accused *me* of heresy, for having defended him. I appealed to the Pope. I - I was put in prison, tortured, and... and I recanted.

We are very fortunate to have such snowy ground here. It is often the parchment on which the criminal unwittingly writes his autograph. Now, what do you read from these footprints here?

Yes, but a unique smudge of blue... blended by your finest illuminator, brother Adelmo, who possessed this parchment before Venantius. How do we know that? Because those notes overrun... Adelmo's blue smudge, and not vice-versa.

The only left-handed member of your community is… or rather was… brother Berengar, the assistant librarian. Now, what kind of secret knowledge would he have been privy to?

Books. Restricted books. Spiritually dangerous books. Everyone here knew of the assistant's passion… for handsome boys.

Adelmo submitted to Berengar's lustful advances. But afterwards, wracked by remorse, he wandered desperate in the graveyard, where he met the Greek translator.

Who saw Adelmo giving this parchment to Venantius, and running towards the small tower, and hurling himself out of the window. The night of my arrival, while Berengar punished his sinful flesh...

Venantius, following the instructions on the parchment, entered the forbidden library and found the book. He took it back to his desk and began to read it. After scribbling down those mysterious quotations, he died with a black stain on his finger. The assistant discovered the body, and dragged it down to the pigpen to avert suspicion falling on him. But he left his "autograph" behind.

The book remained on the translator's desk. Berengar returned there last night and read it. Soon after, overcome by some agonizing pain, he tried to take a soothing bath with lime leaves, and drowned. He too had a blackened finger.

All three died because of a book which kills... or for which men will kill.

I therefore urge you to grant me access to the library.

You're the man now, dog!

The key to a woman's heart is an unexpected gift at an unexpected time.

No thinking - that comes later. You must write your first draft with your heart. You rewrite with your head. The first key to writing is… to write, not to think!

Dear Jamal, Someone I once knew wrote that we walk away from our dreams afraid that we may fail or worse yet, afraid we may succeed. You need to know that while I knew so very early that you would realize your dreams, I never imagined I would once again realize my own. Seasons change young man, and while I may have waited until the winter of my life, to see the things I've seen this past year, there is no doubt I would have waited too long, had it not been for you.

How about 5,000 words on why you should stay the fuck out of my house!

Let me ask you a question... those two foul shots at the end of the game... did you miss them, or did you *miss* them?

You don't know a goddamn thing about reason; There are no reasons! Reasons why some of us live and why some of us don't! Fortunately for you, you have decades to figure that out!

Women will sleep with you if you write a bad book.

Writers write things to give readers something to read.

You don't know what to do right now, do you? If you say what you really want to, I may not read any more of this. But if you let me run you down with this racist bullshit… what does that make you?

Bolt the door, if you're coming in.

Whatever we write in this apartment stays in this apartment.

You said you wanted to get Capone. Do you really wanna get him? You see what I'm saying is, what are you prepared to do?

And *then* what are you prepared to do? If you open the can on these worms you must be prepared to go all the way. Because they're not gonna give up the fight, until one of you is dead.

You wanna know how to get Capone? They pull a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue. *That's* the *Chicago* way! And that's how you get Capone. Now do you want to do that? Are you ready to do that? I'm offering you a deal. Do you want this deal?

You just fulfilled the first rule of law enforcement: make sure when your shift is over you go home alive. Here endeth the lesson.

If you're afraid of getting a rotten apple, don't go to the barrel. Get it off the tree.

Don't wait for it to happen. Don't even want it to happen. Just watch what does happen.

Where are you from, Stone?

"Stone"? "George Stone"? That's your name? What's your real name?

Nah. What was it before you changed it?

Jeez, I knew it! That's all you need is one thieving wop on the team!

I said that you're a lying member of a no-good race.Mr. Ness, everybody knows where the booze is. The problem isn't finding it, the problem is who wants to cross Capone.

I need to know where this guy is! And I need to know NOW! Or I'm gonna rat you out for all the shit I know that you've done in your life! I'm going to turn you over!

Let's cut the wolfing, pal! You tell me, or you're going to the hospital or the fucking morgue!

You're gonna talk, pal. You're gonna beg to talk. Because somebody's going to talk!

Hey you, on your feet! We need you to translate this book! And I'm not going to ask you a second time! I'm gonna count to three.

What's the matter? Can't you talk with a gun in your mouth? One... two... THREE!

Welcome to Chicago.This town stinks like a whorehouse at low tide.

If you walk through this door now, you're walking into a world of trouble. And there's no turning back. You understand?