I prefer:Pop Fisher - You know my mama wanted me to be a farmer.
Roy Hobbs - My dad wanted me to be a baseball player.
Pop Fisher - Well, you're better than anyone I ever had and you're the best GD hitter I ever saw. (only he didn't say GD)
That exchange gives me chills (in a good way). I can hear that over and over and it has the same effect.
Yeah, that guy was creepy.I prefer:Pop Fisher - You know my mama wanted me to be a farmer.
Roy Hobbs - My dad wanted me to be a baseball player.
Pop Fisher - Well, you're better than anyone I ever had and you're the best GD hitter I ever saw. (only he didn't say GD)
That exchange gives me chills (in a good way). I can hear that over and over and it has the same effect.
We review...all the fears and anxiety which are so inherently symptomatic of a losing team. The mind is a strange thing, men. We must begin by asking it What is losing? Losing is a disease as contagious as polio. Losing is a disease as contagious as syphilis. Losing is a disease as contagious as bubonic plague, attacking one but infecting all. Ah, but curable. Now, I want you to imagine you are on a ship at sea, on a vast, calm ocean. Gently rocking. Gently rocking. Gently rocking. Gently rocking.
I get goosebumps just READING it.Bumping this one as not getting enough love here - first one that comes to my mind, blows away a lot of the other ones mentioned here.What's he that wishes so?My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;If we are mark'd to die, we are enowTo do our country loss; and if to live,The fewer men, the greater share of honour.God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;It yearns me not if men my garments wear;Such outward things dwell not in my desires.But if it be a sin to covet honour,I am the most offending soul alive.No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.God's peace! I would not lose so great an honourAs one man more methinks would share from meFor the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,That he which hath no stomach to this fight,Let him depart; his passport shall be made,And crowns for convoy put into his purse;We would not die in that man's companyThat fears his fellowship to die with us.This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,And rouse him at the name of Crispian.He that shall live this day, and see old age,Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,But he'll remember, with advantages,What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,Familiar in his mouth as household words-Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.This story shall the good man teach his son;And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,From this day to the ending of the world,But we in it shall be remembered-We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;For he to-day that sheds his blood with meShall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,This day shall gentle his condition; Make him a member of the gentry, even if he is a commoner.And gentlemen in England now-a-bedShall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaksThat fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
I can't believe someone put something from "The Goonies" in Best Movie Speech Ever. I also can't believe I knew that speech was from the Goonies.Mikey: Don't you realize? The next time you see sky, it'll be over another town. The next time you take a test, it'll be in some other school. Our parents, they want the best of stuff for us. But right now, they got to do what's right for them. Because it's their time. Their time! Up there! Down here, it's our time. It's our time down here. That's all over the second we ride up Troy's bucket.
that one and this one both...:I get goosebumps just READING it.Bumping this one as not getting enough love here - first one that comes to my mind, blows away a lot of the other ones mentioned here.What's he that wishes so?My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;If we are mark'd to die, we are enowTo do our country loss; and if to live,The fewer men, the greater share of honour.God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;It yearns me not if men my garments wear;Such outward things dwell not in my desires.But if it be a sin to covet honour,I am the most offending soul alive.No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.God's peace! I would not lose so great an honourAs one man more methinks would share from meFor the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,That he which hath no stomach to this fight,Let him depart; his passport shall be made,And crowns for convoy put into his purse;We would not die in that man's companyThat fears his fellowship to die with us.This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,And rouse him at the name of Crispian.He that shall live this day, and see old age,Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,But he'll remember, with advantages,What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,Familiar in his mouth as household words-Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.This story shall the good man teach his son;And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,From this day to the ending of the world,But we in it shall be remembered-We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;For he to-day that sheds his blood with meShall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,This day shall gentle his condition; Make him a member of the gentry, even if he is a commoner.And gentlemen in England now-a-bedShall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaksThat fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
SCENE I. France. Before Harfleur.
Alarum. Enter KING HENRY, EXETER, BEDFORD, GLOUCESTER, and Soldiers, with scaling-ladders
KING HENRY V
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'
I love that speech.Let me tell you something you already know. The world aint all sunshine and rainbows. Its a very mean and nasty place and I dont care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it aint about how hard ya hit. Its about how hard you can get it and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. Thats how winning is done! Now if you know what youre worth then go out and get what youre worth. But ya gotta be willing to take the hits, and not pointing fingers saying you aint where you wanna be because of him, or her, or anybody! Cowards do that and that aint you! Youre better than that!
Dammit, always get those two mixed up."A Bronx Tale""Now yous can't leave." - This Boy's Life
Reminds me of the song "My Way."I love that speech.Let me tell you something you already know. The world aint all sunshine and rainbows. Its a very mean and nasty place and I dont care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it aint about how hard ya hit. Its about how hard you can get it and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. Thats how winning is done! Now if you know what youre worth then go out and get what youre worth. But ya gotta be willing to take the hits, and not pointing fingers saying you aint where you wanna be because of him, or her, or anybody! Cowards do that and that aint you! Youre better than that!
I've heard stories about his speech between periods of the Gold Medal game vs Finland. Apparently it was legendary, and it worked. They were down a goal and the only gist of the story I got was that it ended with "if you guys lose this game, you will take it to your graves. <slams something>..to your f***ing GRAVES!!!"Kurt Russell's (as Herb Brooks) pregame speech in Miracle. /thread