Leonardo DiCaprio Monologues

You can dream of a moment for years and still somehow miss it when it comes. You've got to reach through the flames and take it, or lose it forever. I took it. So did my mother. We never looked back.

I got this scholarship and he went nuts! He's crazy and I'm leaving!

Oh, no, no. Don't worry. I'm gone! Just give me my paper route money.

Sometimes I had to blame somebody; she was the only one there.

My application forms must've come today and he threw 'em away!

It's not the shoes, is it? Or the candy, or anything else. It's me, Isn't? You just can't stand the fact that I exist.

It was 1957. We were driving from Florida to Utah. After my mother was beaten up by her boyfriend, we got in the Nash and high-tailed it for the uranium fields. We were gonna get rich and change our luck, which hadn't been so hot since our family broke up five years back.

Dwight said I had as much chance of passing the test as he had of farting his way through the star spangled banner.

Yeah, but there's no crease in the paper. When your mom hands you a note to miss school, the first thing you do is, you fold it and you put it in your pocket. I mean, if it's real, where's the crease?

Dear Dad, you always told me that an honest man has nothing to fear, so I'm trying my best not to be afraid.

Absolutely. Two little mice fell into a bucket of cream. The first mouse quickly gave up and drowned, but the second mouse, he struggled so hard that he eventually churned that cream into butter and he walked out. Amen.

Looked like you were wearing a wedding ring out in Los Angeles. I thought maybe you had a family.

All right. I'm at my suite at the Stuyvesant Arms, room 3113. In the morning, I leave for Las Vegas for the weekend.

I'm really sorry if I made a fool out of you. I really am.

The same reason the Yankees always win. Nobody can keep their eyes off the pinstripes.

Brenda, I don't want to lie to you anymore. All right? I'm not a doctor. I never went to medical school. I'm not a lawyer, or a Harvard graduate, or a Lutheran. Brenda, I ran away from home a year and a half ago when I was 16.

Your honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this is irrefutable evidence that the defendant is, in fact, lying.

There's no perforated edge, right? This check was hand-cut, not fed. The paper's double-bonded, much too heavy to be a bank check. Magnetic ink, it's raised against my fingers, not flat. This doesn't smell like MICR, it's some kind of, uh, some kind of drafting ink. The kind you get at a stationery store.

I've already got a job here, you know. I, uh, deliver the mail.

Carl? Carl! Merry Christmas! How is it we're always talking on Christmas, Carl? Every Christmas, I'm talking to you!

The truth is I'm not a doctor or a lawyer. I'm not an airline pilot. I'm nothing really. I'm just a kid in love with your daughter.

The truth is, sir, that… The truth is that… I'm not a doctor, I'm not a lawyer, I'm not an airline pilot. I'm… I'm nothing, really. I'm-I'm-I'm just a kid who's in love with your daughter.

You're growing up. And rain sort of remains on the branches of a tree that will someday rule the Earth. And it's good that there is rain. It clears the month of your sorry rainbow expressions, and it clears the streets of the silent armies... so we can dance.

First, it's a Saturday night thing when you feel cool like a gangster or a rockstar- just something to kill the boredom, you know? They call it a chippie, a small habit. It feels so good, you start doing it on Tuesdays... then Thursdays... then it's got you. Every wise ass punk on the block says it won't happen to them, but it does.

When I was young, about eight or so, I tried making friends with God by inviting Him to my house to watch the World Series. He never showed.

All I've been doing is reading this diary wondering how the hell I'm still alive?

I felt dazed, like I just came out of a 4 hour movie I didn't understand.

Time sure flies when you're young and jerking off.

Don't let your mouth get you into something your ass can't handle.

I saw this girl next to me who wasn't beautiful until she smiled.

Know this. There's different types of users of junk. You got your rich dilettante square-ass who dabbles now and then and always has enough money to run off to the Riviera if he feels he's fucking around to the danger point. Street junkies hate these pricks, but they're always suckers, and their money makes them tolerable. Then you got your upper-middle-class Westchester preppies... same as the others, basically. What they're good for is opening their mommy and daddy's eyes to this social virus and putting pressure on the government to do something about it. Then there's us street kids. Start fucking around very young, 13 or so. We think we all got it under control and won't get strung out. This rarely works. I'm living proof. But in the end, you just got to see the junk as another 9-to-5 gig. The hours are just a bit more inclined to shadows.

And in the next life, father, I'M gonna have the PADDLE.

I was just gonna sniff a bag but one guy says if you're gonna sniff you might as well pop it and another guys says if you gonna pop it you might as well mainline.

Just my own naked self and the stars breathing down, it's beautiful.

You gotta have presence on the court. Presence like a cheetah rather than a chimp. Sure, they both got it, but Chimpy gotta jump his nuts around to get it. The shy cheetah moves with total nonchalance, stickin' it to them in his sexy, slow strut. Me? I play like a cheetah.

…did I ever tell you about the first time I did heroin?

Gee whiz, ma, we oughtta have these heart to heart talks more often, they're good for us.

I just wanna be pure, I just wanna be pure.

You sit there with a mass murderer. A mass murderer. Your heart rate is jacked, and your hand… steady. That's one thing I figured out about myself in prison. My hand does not shake… ever.

Look... look, I'm having panic attacks, alright? The other night I thought I was having a fucking heart attack. I puked in a trash barrel on the way over here. I haven't slept for fucking weeks.

Yeah, that's true. Alright? I said it was fucking true. I want some fucking pills and you're gonna what? You're gonna close my file? Is that what you're going to do?

I thought I was supposed to tell the truth here, if only fucking here!

Christ. I mean, a guy comes in here against every, every instinct of privacy and self-reliance he has and what do you do? What do you do, huh? You send him off on the street to score smack, is that what you do? You're fucking ridiculous!

Two pills? Great. Why don't you just give me a bottle of scotch and a handgun to blow my fucking head off! Are we done here with this psychiatry bullshit?

What the fuck did I just put myself through? I'm fucking out of here. And what if that was a legitimate threat? Think about it fucking hotshot!

I'm going fucking nuts, man. I can't be someone else every fuckin' day. It's been a year of this. I've had enough of this shit!

Is there something that you just wanna go ahead and ask me? 'Cause I'll give you the fuckin' answer, all right? Frank, look at me. Look at me. I'm not the fuckin' rat. Okay? I'm not the fuckin' rat.

You accuse me once, I put up with it. You accuse me twice... I quit. You pressure me to fear for my life and I will put a fucking bullet in your head as if you were anybody else. Okay?

You mean Stephanie, who was the only one who came to my father's funeral? That Stephanie?

Nothing much to it, Uncle Edward.

When you say "the family," who do you mean exactly? You?

Maybe it would have done you some good to have some *questions* from time to time, you know? "Am I an asshole? Are my kids a mess? Is my wife a money-grubbing whore?" I mean, those are questions, right? "Have I ever been good to my dying sister or am I just now pretending to be?"

Frank, how many of these guys have been with you long enough to be disgruntled, huh? Think about it. You don't pay much, you know. It's almost a fuckin' feudal enterprise. The question is, and this is the only question, who thinks that they can do what you do better than you?

I probably could be you, yeah. Yeah, I know that much. But I don't wanna be you, Frank. I don't wanna be you

When are you gonna take Costello, huh?

I mean, what's wrong with taking him on any one of the

million fucking felonies that you've seen him do, or I've seen him do? I mean, I mean, he murdered somebody, right? The guy fucking murders somebody, and you don't fucking take him! What are you waiting for, honestly? I mean, do you want him to chop me up and feed me to the poor? Is that what you guys want?

I'm getting on a plane unless you put Queenan on the phone.

Meet up? Meet - you actually want me dead? Look, there is a RAT in your unit, that is a FACT! Alright? Where's Queenan?

They knew you had cameras in the building! They knew EVERYTHING, alright? There is a leak from the inside! It's real, man, smoke him out!

Let it slip through SIU that you have a sealed wiretap warrant for Costello's apartment. Don't tell ANYONE in our division, but tell SIU. Flush it down the pipe and see if it comes out on my end, alright? That's what we do first, we narrow it down. Where is Queenan?

There is no one more full of shit than a cop except for a cop on TV.

Use their weapons? They signed up to use their weapons most of them but they watch enough TV so they know they have to weep there is no one more full of shit than a cop, except for a cop on TV

You're seventy fucking years old. One of these guys is going to pop you. As for running drugs, what the fuck. You don't need the pain in the ass, and they're going to catch you. And you don't need the money.

This is for you to hold. Only you. You open this if something happens to me, or if I call you and I tell you to open it.

You're the only one I can trust, all right? Please. Look, I'm sorry to even show up here like this, you know? There's just no one else I could give it to.

His lawyer came to me. Imagine that you rat fuck! Costello trusted me more than anyone. Sound quality good enough? Cause I was a little worried.

Do I kill everything that I love?

McCarthy was an opportunist not a patriot.

The very essence of our democracy is rooted in a belief in the worth of the individual. That life has meaning that transcends any man-made system, that love is the greatest force on earth… far more enduring than hatred or the unnatural divisions of mankind.

Yes, that is true sir, but our car and bank robbery recoveries totaled 6.5 million last year, and our budget is only, well, 2 million. Unlike other departments in Washington, we actually run a profit.

Funny how even the dearest face will fade away in time, but most clearly I remember your eyes with a sort of teasing smile in them and the feeling of that soft spot just northeast of the corner of your mouth.

Let me tell you something. The SCLC has direct Communist ties. Even great men can be corrupted, can't they? Communism is not a political party. It is a disease. It corrupts the soul, turning men, even the gentlest of men, into vicious evil tyrants.

I don't need to tell you that, what determines a man's legacy is often what isn't seen.

When morals decline and good men do nothing, evil flourishes. Every citizen has a duty to learn of this that threatens his home, his children. A society uninterested and unwilling to learn from the past is doomed. We must never forget our history. We must never lower our guard. Even today, there are organizations that have America as their prime target. They would destroy the safety and the happiness of every individual and thrust us into a condition of lawlessness, immorality that passes the imagination.

What's important at this time is to re-clarify the difference between hero and villain.

I think so, I think so. I'm going to show her my old card catalog system at the Library of Congress.

I know we've only known each other a brief time, but you would make the finest of companions. Your strength, and your character, and your education.

I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't share this with any of the other women at the typing pool.

All right. May I ask what - what - what particular flaw you seem to find in my character?

Right, of course. But I believe that I am a fast and accurate judge of character. We've gone out three times, but I don't need more. Most people do, but I don't. I see people right off for what they are. And please, call me Edgar. It's what my mother uses.

I should've never given you your job, Clyde. You know that? You weren't even qualified. You remember the day you came in for your interview.

You walked into my office and you fixed my window, you picked up my handkerchief. You handed it to me. You remember why I was sweating, Clyde?

No, I was… I was sweating because I… I knew at that very moment…

... I knew at that very moment that I... I needed you. And I've never needed anyone else in my entire life. Not like that. So I began to perspire.

Yes, yes it's - it's just indigestion, Clyde. Let's go to dinner tomorrow night, shall we? Our old corner booth.

Yes. And you must - you must. We have a great many things to discuss. And now I can't trust anyone else at the bureau right now. I can only depend on you.

So, bright boy, Moguy tells me you looked over my African flesh and you was none too impressed, huh?

Well, then, we got nothing more to talk about. You see, you want to buy a beat ass nigger from me, those are the beat ass niggers I want to sell, so…

Well, I don't sell the niggers I don't wanna sell.

And what do you consider "ridiculous?"

Gentlemen, you had my curiosity, now you have my attention.

Hello. Stephen, my boy!

Aw, Stephen, you have nails for breakfast? What's the matter? Why you so ornery? You miss me? Huh?

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Stephen! Stephen! Let's keep it funny. Django here's a freeman.

That nigger there. Let me at least introduce the two of you. Django, this is a another cheeky black bugger like yourself, Stephen. Stephen, this here is Django. You two oughta hate each other.

Django, and his friend in gray here, Dr. Schultz, are customers. And they are our guests, Stephen. And you, you old, decrepit bastard, you are to show them every hospitality. You understand that?

You don't have to know why. Do you understand?

Well, good. They're spending the night. Go open the guest bedrooms and get two ready.

Stephen. He's a slaver. It's different.

Well, you got a problem with that?

That is my problem! They are mine to burn! Now your problem right now is making a good impression! And I want you to start solving that problem right now and get them goddamn rooms ready!

Man, the lip on him! Whoo! He's getting worse and worse. Now, WHERE IS MY BEAUTIFUL SISTER?

This is Ben. He's a old Joe that lived around here for a long time. And I do mean a long damn time. Old Ben here took care of my daddy and my daddy's daddy, till he up and keeled over one day. Old Ben took care of me. Growing up the son of a huge plantation owner in Mississippi puts a white man in contact with a whole lot of black faces. I spent my whole life here right here in Candyland, surrounded by black faces. And seeing them every day, day in day out, I only had one question. Why don't they kill us? Now right out there on that porch three times a week for fifty years, old Ben here would shave my daddy with a straight razor. Now if I was old Ben, I would have cut my daddy's goddamn throat, and it wouldn't have taken me no fifty years to do it neither. But he never did. Why not? You see, the science of phrenology is crucial to understanding the separation about two species. In the skull of the African here, the area associated with submissiveness is larger than any human or other sub-human species on planet Earth. If you examine this piece of skull here, you'll notice three distinct dimples. Here, here and here. Now if I was holding a skull of a… of an Isaac Newton or Galileo, these three dimples would be in the area of the skull most associated with creativity. But this is the skull of old Ben, and in the skull of old Ben unburdened by genius, these three dimples exist in the area of the skull most associated with servility.

Now bright boy, I will admit you are pretty clever. But if I took this hammer here and I bashed it in your skull, you would have the same three dimples in the same place as old Ben.

Never the less, here in Chickasaw County, a deal ain't done till the two parties have shook hands. Even after all that paper signin', don't mean shit you don't shake my hand.

Mr. Pooch, if she tries to leave here before this nigger-loving German shakes my hand, you cut her ass down!

Dr. Schultz, in Greenville, you yourself said that for the right nigger you'd be willing to pay what some may consider is a ridiculous amount. To which me myself said "What is your definition of ridiculous?" To which you said "$12,000." Now, considering y'all have ridden a whole lot of miles…

… went through a whole lot of trouble…

... and done spread a whole lot of bull to purchase this lovely lady right here, it would appear that Broomhilda is in fact the right nigger. And if y'all wanna leave Candyland with Broomhilda, the price... is $12,000.

Yes, I do, Doctor. You see, under the laws of Chickasaw County, Broomhilda, here, is my property... and I can choose to do with MY PROPERTY... WHATEVER I SO DESIRE!

And if y'all think my price for this nigger here is too steep, what I'm gonna desire to do is...

TAKE THIS GODDAMNED HAMMER HERE, AND BEAT HER ASS TO DEATH WITH IT! RIGHT IN FRONT OF BOTH YA'LL! THEN WE CAN EXAMINE THE THREE DIMPLES INSIDE BROOMHILDA'S SKULL! NOW… WHAT'S IT GONNA BE DOC? HUH? WHAT'S IT GOING TO BE?

SOLD… TO THE MAN WITH EXCEPTIONAL BEARD, AND HIS UNEXCEPTIONAL NIGGER!

I've heard tell about you. I heard you been telling everybody them mandingos ain't no damn good, ain't nothing nobody is selling is worth buying - I'm curious. What makes you such a mandingo expert?

Django, and his friend in gray here, Dr. Schultz, are customers. And they are our guests, Stephen, and you, you old decrepit bastard are to show them every hospitality. You understand that?

Well, be careful now, Dr. Schultz. You might have caught yourself a little dose of nigger love. Nigger love's a powerful emotion, boy. It's like a pool of black tar. Once it catches your ass, your caught.

Where I part company from many of my phrenologist colleagues is I believe there is a level above bright, above talented, above loyal that a nigger can aspire to. Say, one nigger that just pops up in ten thousand. The exceptional nigger.

But Lara Lee, Dr. Schultz is from Dusseldorf, they don't got niggers there. He's a man of medicine! I'm sure it would fascinate him, the niggers endurance for pain. These niggers are tough, Dr. Schultz, no doubt about it. Hildi's got somethin' like four lashes on her back. If Lara Lee just get one, she'd lose her goddamn mind! Look at that Doctor. It's like a painting. Look at that.

Why would they go through all that trouble for a nigger with a chewed up back, ain't worth three hundred dollars?

If she's who they want, why the whole snake oil pitch about Mandingos then?

Yes, it did. His wife, huh? If there'd been a snake, it would have bit me. Those lyin' goddamn time wastin' sonsabitches! Sonsabitches!

Moguy, I want you to take care of my new boy, here. You find him a room with a soft bed and then you bring him up a pony to lick his pole.

Now, now, now, now, now. No beggin', no playin' on my soft heart. You in trouble now, son. Now, I done paid five hundred dollars for you. And when I pay five hundred dollars, I expect to get five fights outta a nigga 'fore he roll over and play dead. I done said I'm runnin' a business here. You've fought three fights.

You never know how these nigger nicknames get started. His name was Joe. Maybe one day he said he was cold? Who knows?

Did my heart love 'til now? Forswear its sight. For I never saw true beauty 'til this night.

If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this. My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

Have not saints lips, and holy palmers, too?

Well, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.

Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.

Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.

I defy you, stars!

Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee doth much excuse the appertaining rage to such a greeting. Villain am I none. Therefore farewell. I see thou knowest me not.

I have night's cloak to hide me from their eyes, but thou love me, let them find me here. My life were better ended by their hate than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.

My Love, my Life. Death is upon thy breath and yet not thy beauty. Thou are not conquered yet, this beauty is in thy lips and thy cheeks and deaths pale flag has not been conquered there. Dear Juliet, why are thou so fair? Should I believe that unsubstantial death is amorous, keeps thee here in dark to be his paramour? Here, oh here will I stay with thee; and never from this place of dim night depart again: here, here I will remain. Eyes look at last, let me take one last embrace, and lips only to the doors to breath and seal with a righteous kiss.

Not mad, but bound more than a mad man is. Shut up in prison, kept without my food, whipped and tormented.

What is the most resilient parasite? Bacteria? A virus? An intestinal worm? An idea. Resilient... highly contagious. Once an idea has taken hold of the brain it's almost impossible to eradicate. An idea that is fully formed - fully understood - that sticks; right in there somewhere.

I wish. I wish more than anything. But I can't imagine you with all your complexity, all you perfection, all your imperfection. Look at you. You are just a shade of my real wife. You're the best I can do; but I'm sorry, you are just not good enough.

You're waiting for a train. A train that'll take you far away. You know where you hope this train will take you. But you can't know for sure. Yet it doesn't matter. Now, tell me why?

I'm going to improvise. Listen, there's something you should know about me... about inception. An idea is like a virus, resilient, highly contagious. The smallest seed of an idea can grow. It can grow to define or destroy you.

They say we only use a fraction of our brain's true potential. Now that's when we're awake. When we're asleep, we can do almost anything.

"I will split up my father's empire." Now, this is obviously an idea that Robert himself would choose to reject. Which is why we need to plant it deep in his subconscious. Subconscious is motivated by emotion, right? Not reason. We need to find a way to translate this into an emotional concept.

You create the world of the dream, you bring the subject into that dream, and they fill it with their subconscious.

Well dreams, they feel real while we're in them, right? It's only when we wake up that we realize how things are actually strange. Let me ask you a question, you, you never really remember the beginning of a dream do you? You always wind up right in the middle of what's going on.

She had locked something away, something deep inside her. The truth that she had once known, but… she chose to forget. Limbo became her reality.

To wake up from that after, after years, after decades... after we'd become old souls thrown back into youth like that... I knew something was wrong with her. She just wouldn't admit it. Eventually, she told me the truth. She was possessed by an idea, this one, very simple idea, that changed everything. That our world wasn't real. That she needed to wake up to come back to reality, that, in order to get back home, we had to kill ourselves.

Well, yes, ma'am, I do... I mean, I got everything I need right here with me. I got air in my lungs, a few blank sheets of paper. I mean, I love waking up in the morning not knowing what's gonna happen or, who I'm gonna meet, where I'm gonna wind up. Just the other night I was sleeping under a bridge and now here I am on the grandest ship in the world having champagne with you fine people. I figure life's a gift and I don't intend on wasting it. You don't know what hand you're gonna get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you... to make each day count.

Listen, Rose. You're gonna get out of here, you're gonna go on and you're gonna make lots of babies, and you're gonna watch them grow. You're gonna die an old... an old lady warm in her bed, not here, not this night. Not like this, do you understand me?

Winning that ticket, Rose, was the best thing that ever happened to me… it brought me to you. And I'm thankful for that, Rose. I'm thankful. You must do me this honor. Promise me you'll survive. That you won't give up, no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless. Promise me now, Rose, and never let go of that promise.

I don't know about you, but I intend to write a strongly worded letter to the White Star Line about all of this.

Rose, you're no picnic, all right? You're a spoiled little brat, even, but under that, you're the most amazingly, astounding, wonderful girl, woman that I've ever known...

No, let me try and get this out. You're ama- I'm not an idiot, I know how the world works. I've got ten bucks in my pocket, I have no-nothing to offer you and I know that. I understand. But I'm too involved now. You jump, I jump remember? I can't turn away without knowing you'll be all right... That's all that I want.

Really? I don't think so. They've got you trapped, Rose. And you're gonna die if you don't break free. Maybe not right away because you're strong but... sooner or later that fire that I love about you, Rose... that fire's gonna burn out...

Don't worry, I can't be bothered! You're not worth the trouble it would take to hit you! You're not worth the powder it would take to blow you up. You are an empty, empty, hollow shell of a woman. I mean, what the hell are you doing in my house if you hate me so much? Why the hell are you married to me? What the hell are you doing carrying my child? I mean, why didn't you just get rid of it when you had the chance? Because listen to me, listen to me, I got news for you - I wish to God that you had!

Knowing what you've got - comma - knowing what you need - comma - knowing what you can do without - dash - That's inventory control.

You know what this is like? April, honestly? This talking like this. The whole, the whole idea of, of going off to Europe this way. This is the way I felt going up to the line, the first time, in the war. I mean, I was, I was probably just as scared as everyone else; but, but inside, I never felt better. I felt, I felt alive! I felt full of blood! I felt - everything just - everything seemed more real. The guys in the uniforms. The snow on the fields. The trees. And all of us, all of us, just, walking. I mean, I-I was scared, of course; but, I just kept thinking, this is it, you know! This - is the truth!

When you kill a king, you don't stab him in the dark. You kill him where the entire court can watch him die.

It's a funny feeling being taken under the wing of a dragon. It's warmer than you'd think.

In the end, they put candles on the bodies so's their friends, if they had any, could know them in the dark. The city did this free of charge. Shang, Jimmy Spoils, Hell-cat, McGloin, and more. Friend or foe, didn't make no difference now. It was four days and nights before the worst of the mob was finally put down. We never knew how many New Yorkers died that week before the city was finally delivered. My father told me we was all born of blood and tribulation, and so then too was our great city. But for those of us what lived and died in them furious days, it was like everything we knew was mightily swept away. And no matter what they did to build this city up again... for the rest of time... it would be like no one ever knew we was even here.

There's more of us coming off these ships each day. I heard 15,000 Irish a week. And we're afraid of the Natives? Get all of us together, we ain't got a gang, we got an army. And all you needs is a spark. Right? Just one spark. Something to wake us all up.

…And no matter what they did to build this city up again, for the rest of time, it will be like no-one even knew we was ever here.

Lord, place the steel of the Holy Spirit in my spine and the love of the Virgin Mary in my heart.

The past is a torch that lights our way. Where our fathers have shown us the path, we shall follow. Our faith is the weapon most feared by our enemies. For thereby shall we lift our people up against those who would destroy us.

Our name is called "The Dead Rabbits" to remind all of our suffering, and as a call to those who suffer still to join our ranks. However far they may have strayed from our common home across the sea. For with great numbers must come great strength in the salvation of our people.

That was the Five Points alright: hangings of a morning, dancings of an evening.

It wasn 't a city really. It was more a furnace where a city someday might be forged.

Ah, the Five Points! Murderer's Alley. Brickbat Mansion. The Gates of Hell.

Every year the Reformers came. Every year the Points got worse. As if it liked being dirty.

Some of it I have remembered. And the rest I took from dreams.

For every lay we had a different name. An Angler put a hook on the end of a stick to drop behind store windows and doors. An Autumn Diver picked your pocket in church. A Badger, gets a fellow in bed with a girl and then robs his pockets while they're on the go.

Every year the Natives celebrated the killing of my father all over again. At Sparrow's Chinese Pagoda in Mott street. The chinks hated the Natives worse than we did. The drum rolls and the Butcher drinks a glass of fire.

Sometimes I wonder… will God ever forgive us for what we've done to each other? Then I look around and I realize… God left this place a long time ago.

Who do you think buys the stones that I bring out? Dreamy American girls who all want a storybook wedding and a big, shiny rock like the ones in the advertisements of your politically-correct magazines. So, please, don't come here and make judgments on me, all right?

No, no, listen here my friend, listen here all right. I'm good friends with Colonel Coetzee, Colonel Coetzee would not be pleased that you've interfered with his business. Now, you know who I am, all right? You don't wanna make trouble for me or my friends right? Now look, why don't I just look the other way, all right, you take one or two of those stones, you get something lekker for the wife, or maybe the mistress all right? We solve the problem right here?

Don't tell me you're going to try and sell it yourself. To who, and for what price my friend? You need my help whether you like it or not.

Listen, listen. They came into this city overnight. It's started. What are you gonna do about it, huh? Look, the right stone can buy anything - safety, information, even freedom, but a big stone does not stay secret for very long. The moment you tell anyone about it, your life is absolutely worthless! The only reason you're still alive is because you haven't told anyone where it is. Am I right? Am I?

Peace Corps types only stay around long enough... to realize they're not helping anyone. Government only wants to stay in power... until they've stolen enough to go into exile somewhere else. And the rebels, they're not sure they want to take over. Otherwise, they'd have to govern this mess.

Let me tell you something. There's no nobility in poverty. I have been a rich man and I have been a poor man. And I choose rich every fuckin' time. Because, at least as a rich man, when I have to face my problems, I show up in the back of the limo, wearing a $2000 suit and a $40,000 gold fuckin' watch.

My name is Jordan Belfort. I'm a former member of the middle class raised by two accountants in a tiny apartment in Bayside, Queens. The year I turned 26, as the head of my own brokerage firm, I made $49 million, which really pissed me off because it was three shy of a million a week.

On a daily basis I consume enough drugs to sedate Manhattan, Long Island, and Queens for a month. I take Quaaludes 10-15 times a day for my "back pain", Adderall to stay focused, Xanax to take the edge off, pot to mellow me out, cocaine to wake me back up again, and morphine… Well, because it's awesome. But of all the drugs under God's blue heaven, here is one that is my absolute favorite. See, enough of this shit will make you invincible - able to conquer the world. And eviscerate your enemies.

Oh my God! You had to deal with the Golf Course people too! What a greek tragedy! Honey oh my God!, you probably had to pay them in cash with your hands! What a fucking burden, and actually had to do some work besides swiping my fucking credit card all day? Huh? Cause I can't keep track of your professions honey! Last month you were a wine connoisseur, and now you're an aspiring landscape architect, Isn't that right?

An I.P.O. is an initial public offering. It's the first time a stock is offered for sale to the general population. Now as the firm taking the company public, we set the initial sales price then sold those shares right back to our friends. Yet...

Look, I know you're not following what I'm saying anyway, right? That's... that's okay, that doesn't matter. The real question is this: was all this legal? Absolutely fucking not. But we were making more money than we knew what do with.

See those little black boxes? They're called telephones. I'm gonna let you in on a little secret about these telephones. They're not gonna dial themselves. Okay? Without you, they're just worthless hunks of plastic. Like a loaded M16 without a trained marine to pull the trigger.

My wife, Naomi, the Duchess of Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. A former model and Miller Lite girl. Yeah. She was the one with my cock in her mouth in the Ferrari, so put your dick back in your pants.

Donnie and I were going out on our own. And the first thing we needed was brokers. Guys with sales experience. So I recruited some of my home town boys. Sea Otter, who sold meat and weed. Chester, who sold tires and weed. And Robbie, who sold anything he can get his hands on, mostly weed. This is Brad, and Brad is the guy I really wanted. But he didn't go along with us. He was making so much money selling Quaaludes that he become the Quaalude King of Bayside.

You wanna know what money sounds like? Go to a trading floor on Wall street. "Fuck this, shit that. Cunt, cock, asshole." I couldn't believe how these guys talked to each other! I was hooked in seconds. It was like mainlining adrenaline.

After 15 years in storage, the lemmons had developed a delayed fuse. It took 90 minutes for these fuckers to kick in but once they did, pow. And I had skipped the tingle phase and jumped straight to the drool phase. These little bastards were so strong I had discovered a whole new phase. The Cerebral Palsy phase.

I'm sober for two years, stopped my drugs, settled down with my wife and kids, and then this happens! Rugrat gets busted down in Miami, and guess who happens to be with him? Saurel! That's right, out of all the Swiss bankers in Miami, it had to be him! Even more fucked, is that he got busted for shit that had nothing to do with me. It had nothing to fucking do with me! Some stuff about running drugs with Rocky Aoki, you know, the founder of Benihana? Benihana... Beni-fucking-hana? BENI-FUCKING-HANA? WHY? WHY, GOD? Why would You be so cruel as to use the king of Japanese restaurants to take me down?

The Quaalude, or lude, as it is commonly referred to, was first synthesized in 1951 by an Indian doctor - that's dots, not feathers - as a sedative, and was prescribed to stressed-out housewives with sleep disorders. But pretty soon, somebody figured out that if you resisted the urge to sleep for just fifteen minutes, you got a pretty kick-ass high from it. Didn't take long for people to start abusing ludes, of course, and in 1982 the U.S. government "Schedule 1'd" them, along with the rest of the world. Which meant there was only a finite amount of these things left. No shit. You can't even buy them anymore. You people are all shit out of luck.

Look, I knew these guys weren't like Harvard MBAs. Robbie Feinberg, the Pinhead, took five years to finish high school. Alden Kupferberg, the Sea Otter, didn't even graduate. Chester Ming, the depraved China man, thought jujitsu was in Israel. Smartest of the bunch was Nicky Koskoff. He actually went to law school. I called him Rugrat because of his piece of shit hairpiece. Still, give them to me young, hungry, and stupid, and in no time, I'll make 'em rich.

So you listen to me and you listen well. Are you behind on your credit card bills? Good! Pick up the phone and start dialing! Is your landlord ready to evict you? Good! Pick up the phone and start dialing! Does your girlfriend think you're a fucking worthless loser? Good! Pick up the phone and start dialing! I want you to deal with your problems by becoming rich! All you have to do today is pick up that phone and speak the words that I have taught you. And I will make you richer than the most powerful CEO in the United States of fucking America!

But before you depart this room full of winners, I want you to take a good look at the person next to you. Go on. Because sometime in the not-so-distant future, you're gonna be pulling up at a red light, in your beat-up old fucking Pinto, and that person's gonna be pulling up right alongside you in their brand new Porsche. With their beautiful wife by their side, who's got big voluptuous tits. And who're you gonna be sitting next to? Some disgusting wildebeest with three days of razor-stubble, in a sleeveless muumuu, crammed in next to you in a carload full of groceries from the fucking Price Club. That's who you're gonna be sitting next to!

Even more fucked was that he got busted for shit that had nothing to with me. It had nothing to fucking do with me. Something about laundering drug money through offshore boat racing and a guy named Rocky Aoki, you know the founder of Benihanna. Benihanna, Beni fucking hanna. Beni fucking hanna!. Why why why god, why would you be so cruel as to choose a chain of fucking hibachi restaurants to take me down!

Gentlemen, welcome to Stratton Oakmont. You snooks will now be targeting the wealthiest 1% of Americans. We're talking about whales here, Moby fucking Dicks. And with this script, which is your new harpoon, I'm gonna teach each and every one of you to be Captain fucking Ahab.

Actually, the madness started on our very first day, when one of our brokers, Ben Jenner, christened the elevator by getting a blow job from the sales assistant. Her name was Pam and to her credit, she did have this amazing technique with this wild twisting jerk motion. About a month later, Donnie and I decided to double team her on a Saturday afternoon while our wives were out shopping for Christmas presents. Eventually Ben married her, which was pretty amazing, considering she blew every single guy in the office. Well, he got depressed and killed himself about three years later.