Simon Birch

Joe Wenteworth: Okay, you grabbed her boobs, and you pulled her into the manger. Big deal. It could've happened to anybody. Well, maybe not anybody. Joe Wenteworth: [At Simon's bed in the hospital] Jesus, Simon, you look like shit. Rebecca Wenteworth: Do your thing, Simon! Show 'em how it's done! Miss Leavey: Help. Please. I'm gonna strangle him. I swear to God I'm gonna strangle that little granite mouse if it's the last thing I do.

Simon Birch, CC BY-SA 4.0

Joe Wenteworth: Come on. We're late. Simon Birch: No, you're late. I'm just riding with you.

Simon Birch, CC BY-SA 4.0

Simon Birch: Not so fast. Slow down. I'm a miracle, you know. Joe Wenteworth: Yeah, yeah.

Simon Birch, CC BY-SA 4.0

Simon Birch: I was just thinking. Joe Wenteworth: Yeah? Simon Birch: Last year we played in the Squirt League, right? Joe Wenteworth: Uh-huh. Simon Birch: And this year we're in the Peewees. Joe Wenteworth: So? Simon Birch: Do they want us to play baseball or urinate? [silence] Anyway, I was just thinking.

Simon Birch, CC BY-SA 4.0

Simon Birch: Your mother has the best breasts of all the mothers. Joe Wenteworth: [trying to ignore] Yeah. Simon Birch: And she smells the best too. Joe Wenteworh: I know. Simon Birch: She's so sexy that sometimes I forget she's someone's mother. Joe Wenteworth: Okay. Okay. Simon Birch: I was just being honest. Joe Wenteworth: Well, what if I said the same thing about your mother? Simon Birch: I'd have you committed.

Simon Birch, CC BY-SA 4.0

Simon Birch: Your problem is that you have no faith. Joe Wenteworth: I got faith. I just need proof to back it up.

Simon Birch, CC BY-SA 4.0