Dirty Harry

Mayor: The City of San Francisco does not pay criminals not to commit crimes. Instead, we pay a police department. Lt. Al Bressler: Just go where you're told, do what you're told, play it straight down the line ... Nothing cute, nothing fancy. Just pay the ransom money and report back here.

Dirty Harry, CC BY-SA 4.0

Mayor: All right, let's have it. Insp. Harry Callahan: Have what? Mayor: Your report. What have you been doing? Insp. Harry Callahan: Oh, well for the past three quarters of an hour, I have been sitting on my ass in your outer office, waiting on you. Lt. Al Bressler: Dammit all, Harry, that's the Mayor you're talking to! ... Mayor: Won't you sit down Inspector Callahan? ... There's a madman loose, I've asked you what's being done, fair enough? Insp. Harry Callahan: We've got a dozen men checking identification files, checking on all known extortionists, roof top prowlers, rifle nuts, peepers.. Lt. Al Bressler: Mr. Mayor — we've arranged for rooftop surveillance and helicopter patrols especially around the Catholic churches and schools and in the black areas. Insp. Harry Callahan: Ballistics is checking on the slug. We're pretty sure it's a .30-06, seven lands and grooves, right-hand twist ... Lt. Al Bressler: Sir — we're running a computer check on

Dirty Harry, CC BY-SA 4.0

Insp. Harry Callahan: Hey there, Jaffe; the usual. Jaffe: The usual lunch or the usual dinner? Insp. Harry Callahan: Well, what difference does that make? Jaffe: Not much. Insp. Harry Callahan: Say Jaffe, is that tan Ford still parked across in front of the bank? Jaffe: Tan Ford ... Mmm mmm yeah. Tan Ford. Insp. Harry Callahan: Engine running? Jaffe: I don't know. How can I tell? Insp. Harry Callahan: Exhaust fumes coming out of the tailpipe. Jaffe: Oh my God, that's awful! Look at all that pollution. Insp. Harry Callahan: Yeah. Do me a favor. [gives him slip of paper] Call this telephone number. Jaffe: Police department? Insp. Harry Callahan: Yeah. Tell them Inspector Callahan thinks there's a 2-11 in progress at the bank. Be sure and tell them that's in progress. Jaffe: In progress. Yes sir. Insp. Harry Callahan: Now, if they'll just wait for the cavalry to arrive. [immediately, an alarm bell goes off and a gunshot is heard] Ah, shit!

Dirty Harry, CC BY-SA 4.0

Callahan: I know what you're thinking: 'Did he fire six shots or only five?' Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement, I've kinda lost track myself. But being this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off... You've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya, punk? Thief: Hey! [Callahan turns around] I gots to know... Thief: Son of a bitch...

Dirty Harry, CC BY-SA 4.0

Doctor: Sure, Harry. We can save the leg. [takes out some scissors] Callahan: What are you going to do with those? Doctor: Going to cut your pants off. Callahan: No. I'll take them off. Doctor: It'll hurt. Callahan: For $29.50, let it hurt. You can turn your back if you're embarrassed ...

Dirty Harry, CC BY-SA 4.0

Gonzales: Why do they call ya "Dirty Harry"? De Georgio: That's one thing about our Harry, he doesn't play any favorites. Harry hates everybody. Limeys, Micks, Hebes, Niggers, Honkies, Fat Dagos, Chinks, you name it. Gonzales: How does he feel about Mexicans? De Georgio: Ask him. Callahan: (says with a wink) Especially Spics.

Dirty Harry, CC BY-SA 4.0