Throw Momma from the Train Quotes
A bitter ex-husband. A put upon momma's boy. Both want their respective spouse and mother dead, but who will pull it off?
Larry: [teaching a creative-writing class] This is a real classic by Mr. Pinsky. It's entitled "One Hundred Girls I'd Like to Pork."
Male Student #1: "Pork"?
Mr. Pinsky, Creative Writing Student: It's a coffee table book.
Larry: "One Hundred Girls I'd Like To..." Hmmm. Chapter One: Kathleen Turner. Chapter Two: Cybill Shepherd. Chapter Three: Suzanne Pleshette. Chapter Four: The Girl in the Taco Commercial. Chapter Five: The Woman in 4B. Chapter Six: The Oriental Laker Girl. Chapter Seven... Mr. Pinsky, this is not literature!
Mr. Pinsky, Creative Writing Student: Well, you know, I would put in photographs, a brief character sketch, like a biography, and a nice dust jacket.
Larry: Mr. Pinsky, what is this?
Mr. Pinsky, Creative Writing Student: It's literature. It's a fantasy. My fantasy. Like Melville, this is my great white whale.
Mrs. Hazeltine: It's whacking material.
Mr. Pinsky, Creative Writing Student: Isn't that literature?
Larry: Mr. Pinsky, how do you associate "Moby Dick" to a list of women you'd like to have sex with?
Male Student #2: Well, I think it's very brave.
Mrs. Hazeltine: I think he's vulgar.
Male Student #3: That's what they said about Twain.
Mrs. Hazeltine: That's what I'm saying about him.
Male Student #3: I think you're vulgar.
Mrs. Hazeltine: I think you're a no-talent little shit.
Mr. Pinsky, Creative Writing Student: Maybe I should change the title.
Male Student #2: I like the title!
Larry: [bell rings] OK, I'll see you Wednesday, class. Good work today. Remember, a writer writes, always.
[as the students prepare to leave, voices are heard saying "Pinsky, I could do the photographs" and "Hey Pinsky, what about Vanna White?"]
Male Student #1: "Pork"?
Mr. Pinsky, Creative Writing Student: It's a coffee table book.
Larry: "One Hundred Girls I'd Like To..." Hmmm. Chapter One: Kathleen Turner. Chapter Two: Cybill Shepherd. Chapter Three: Suzanne Pleshette. Chapter Four: The Girl in the Taco Commercial. Chapter Five: The Woman in 4B. Chapter Six: The Oriental Laker Girl. Chapter Seven... Mr. Pinsky, this is not literature!
Mr. Pinsky, Creative Writing Student: Well, you know, I would put in photographs, a brief character sketch, like a biography, and a nice dust jacket.
Larry: Mr. Pinsky, what is this?
Mr. Pinsky, Creative Writing Student: It's literature. It's a fantasy. My fantasy. Like Melville, this is my great white whale.
Mrs. Hazeltine: It's whacking material.
Mr. Pinsky, Creative Writing Student: Isn't that literature?
Larry: Mr. Pinsky, how do you associate "Moby Dick" to a list of women you'd like to have sex with?
Male Student #2: Well, I think it's very brave.
Mrs. Hazeltine: I think he's vulgar.
Male Student #3: That's what they said about Twain.
Mrs. Hazeltine: That's what I'm saying about him.
Male Student #3: I think you're vulgar.
Mrs. Hazeltine: I think you're a no-talent little shit.
Mr. Pinsky, Creative Writing Student: Maybe I should change the title.
Male Student #2: I like the title!
Larry: [bell rings] OK, I'll see you Wednesday, class. Good work today. Remember, a writer writes, always.
[as the students prepare to leave, voices are heard saying "Pinsky, I could do the photographs" and "Hey Pinsky, what about Vanna White?"]
Larry: You killed my wife, Owen!
Owen: No, I didn't... Yes, I did.
Larry: You're a sick man, Owen. You need care and I'm taking you to the police.
Owen: Did you know that Hawaii is a series of islands that was all spit up by the same volcano? I never knew that.
Larry: You killed somebody! You killed a person. You're a murderer. You took a life!
Owen: You're right. You're right, I'm no good. How could I do that? I'm a sick pers... cows!
[points at passing billboard]
Owen: No, I didn't... Yes, I did.
Larry: You're a sick man, Owen. You need care and I'm taking you to the police.
Owen: Did you know that Hawaii is a series of islands that was all spit up by the same volcano? I never knew that.
Larry: You killed somebody! You killed a person. You're a murderer. You took a life!
Owen: You're right. You're right, I'm no good. How could I do that? I'm a sick pers... cows!
[points at passing billboard]
Larry: Owen, you gotta get it through your thick head. I may be a lot of things, but I'm not a killer.
Owen: You don't have to blow her brains out or anything.
Larry: [Sarcastically] Thank you, that takes the pressure right off.
Owen: She's old. She's got a bad ticker. All you gotta do is jerk around a lot when you talk to her.
[Mimics shaking Mrs. Lift viciously]
Owen: "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lift!"
Larry: Would you stop it?
Owen: Well just meet her. Maybe she'll be somebody you'd LIKE to kill.
Owen: You don't have to blow her brains out or anything.
Larry: [Sarcastically] Thank you, that takes the pressure right off.
Owen: She's old. She's got a bad ticker. All you gotta do is jerk around a lot when you talk to her.
[Mimics shaking Mrs. Lift viciously]
Owen: "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lift!"
Larry: Would you stop it?
Owen: Well just meet her. Maybe she'll be somebody you'd LIKE to kill.
Momma: You were writing a letter.
Owen: No, Momma!
Momma: You are writing to tell them to take me away! You want them to take me away!
Owen: I'm writing a story for class, Momma! I don't want them to take you away!
Momma: Yes, you do!
Owen: Owen loves his Momma!
Momma: [to herself] Owen loves his Momma!
[singing mockingly]
Momma: Owen loves his Momma, Owen loves his Momma, Owen loves his Momma, Owen loves his Momma...
Owen: No, Momma!
Momma: You are writing to tell them to take me away! You want them to take me away!
Owen: I'm writing a story for class, Momma! I don't want them to take you away!
Momma: Yes, you do!
Owen: Owen loves his Momma!
Momma: [to herself] Owen loves his Momma!
[singing mockingly]
Momma: Owen loves his Momma, Owen loves his Momma, Owen loves his Momma, Owen loves his Momma...
Owen: She didn't feel a thing, professor Donner. I know how important that is to you not to have her feel a thing.
Larry: Who?
Owen: Your wife. She had a little trouble walking, but that was from the gardener.
Larry: You saw my wife?
Owen: She was kind of a tart Larry. Although I can see why you married her. She was very beautiful.
Larry: Who?
Owen: Your wife. She had a little trouble walking, but that was from the gardener.
Larry: You saw my wife?
Owen: She was kind of a tart Larry. Although I can see why you married her. She was very beautiful.
Larry: Two minutes ago, you were my agent. and now you're telling me that...
Joel: Larry, I'm sorry. That's the way the mop flops.
Larry: That's what i get after seven years? That's the way the mop flops?
Joel: Larry, you have every right to feel like this is the lowest point in your entire life. Arnie, what are you doing? You're bending the fern. Don't bend the fern. Fluff it! Fluff it!
Joel: Larry, I'm sorry. That's the way the mop flops.
Larry: That's what i get after seven years? That's the way the mop flops?
Joel: Larry, you have every right to feel like this is the lowest point in your entire life. Arnie, what are you doing? You're bending the fern. Don't bend the fern. Fluff it! Fluff it!
[Owen is typing on his typewriter when Momma comes and slams his hands on the keyboard]
Momma: Stop it, damn it! I got a wax ball in my ear. Get it out.
[Cut to bathroom. Momma slaps Owen]
Owen: Oh, Momma...
Momma: You're writing to her, aren't you Owen?
Owen: Don't start that again, Momma, and don't hit me anymore!
Momma: You love her.
Owen: There's no "her", Momma.
[Momma bends down above the bathtub as Owen brushes her hair back]
Momma: You're writing a letter!
Owen: I'm writing a story for class, Momma. Don't you see? I take a class, I take a nice class.
Momma: Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Owen: And I'm gonna be a writer someday.
Momma: You know how that typing upsets me!
Owen: I'm sorry, Momma. A writer writes.
Momma: You're gonna be nothing. You're gonna be nothing. You'll never get to first base. All you do is type, type, type, type, type, type. You sit there typing all day like a fat little pigeon.
[Owen notices a pair of long scissors on a nearby shelf, picks them up and raises them]
Owen: You won't ever hear it again, Momma. I promise.
[Owen stabs Momma through the ear with the scissors. Momma stands up screaming]
Owen: [Confused] Momma...
Momma: [Cleaning her ear] I think you got it, sonny.
[Owen suddenly comes to his senses, realising he was imagining killing her]
Momma: I don't know what I'd do without you, Owen baby.
[Kisses him on the cheek and hugs him]
Owen: I know, Momma. I know.
Momma: Owen, my little baby. Owen, my little baby boy.
[Owen still looks confused as to how he cleared Momma's ear]
Momma: Stop it, damn it! I got a wax ball in my ear. Get it out.
[Cut to bathroom. Momma slaps Owen]
Owen: Oh, Momma...
Momma: You're writing to her, aren't you Owen?
Owen: Don't start that again, Momma, and don't hit me anymore!
Momma: You love her.
Owen: There's no "her", Momma.
[Momma bends down above the bathtub as Owen brushes her hair back]
Momma: You're writing a letter!
Owen: I'm writing a story for class, Momma. Don't you see? I take a class, I take a nice class.
Momma: Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Owen: And I'm gonna be a writer someday.
Momma: You know how that typing upsets me!
Owen: I'm sorry, Momma. A writer writes.
Momma: You're gonna be nothing. You're gonna be nothing. You'll never get to first base. All you do is type, type, type, type, type, type. You sit there typing all day like a fat little pigeon.
[Owen notices a pair of long scissors on a nearby shelf, picks them up and raises them]
Owen: You won't ever hear it again, Momma. I promise.
[Owen stabs Momma through the ear with the scissors. Momma stands up screaming]
Owen: [Confused] Momma...
Momma: [Cleaning her ear] I think you got it, sonny.
[Owen suddenly comes to his senses, realising he was imagining killing her]
Momma: I don't know what I'd do without you, Owen baby.
[Kisses him on the cheek and hugs him]
Owen: I know, Momma. I know.
Momma: Owen, my little baby. Owen, my little baby boy.
[Owen still looks confused as to how he cleared Momma's ear]
Larry: Why did you kill my wife?
Owen: I thought you wanted me to. That was the deal we made that night. You told me that hated your wife. You wished she was dead. I told you I hated my mama. I told you I wished she was dead. To told me to see that Hitchcock film about swaping murders. I figured I kill your wife and you kill my mama. That's fair.
Larry: I am not killing your mother. You have to turn yourself in.
Owen: I'm not turning myself in. That's not part of the plan.
Larry: What plan? There was never any plan, you moron! I am taking you to the police and you are telling them what you did! That's it and that's all! I don't want to hear another word!
Owen: If you take me to the cops, I'll just tell them that you did it Larry! What's the point trying to convince them that I did it all on my own? You've got the motive!
Owen: I thought you wanted me to. That was the deal we made that night. You told me that hated your wife. You wished she was dead. I told you I hated my mama. I told you I wished she was dead. To told me to see that Hitchcock film about swaping murders. I figured I kill your wife and you kill my mama. That's fair.
Larry: I am not killing your mother. You have to turn yourself in.
Owen: I'm not turning myself in. That's not part of the plan.
Larry: What plan? There was never any plan, you moron! I am taking you to the police and you are telling them what you did! That's it and that's all! I don't want to hear another word!
Owen: If you take me to the cops, I'll just tell them that you did it Larry! What's the point trying to convince them that I did it all on my own? You've got the motive!
