Redemption Funny Quotes

Everyone underestimates their own life. Funny thing is, in the end, all our stories...they're the same. In fact, no matter where you go in the world, there is only one important story: of youth, loss and yearning for redemption. So we tell the same story, over and over. Only the details are different.

You can’t tel me I’m not breaking up with you when I’m breaking up with you!

That’s what love’s all about, Roxanne. You love someone, you trust them always to tel you the truth.

These walls are funny. First you hate 'em, then you get used to 'em. Enough time passes, you get so you depend on them. That's institutionalized.

Sweet Jesus! Sweet, sweet Jesus!” Mom called to the Savior, caught up in the divine intervention that was Hank and me. I narrowed my eyes at her. “Stop cal ing Jesus, Mom. Hank’s gonna think you’re weird,” I snapped. “She is weird,” Dad said. “I’m not weird,” Mom returned.

I wil not calm down. My baby girl is moving halfway across the country.” “She’s been moved away before,” Dad pointed out. “Yeah, but that was with Billy. We all knew he wouldn’t work out. We’re talking about Hank here. Look at him,” she pointed to Hank. “She’s never coming home. Never.

“Fuck! ” I shouted and everyone at the espresso counter looked over at us. “Half a million dollars?” Lee dropped his foot and turned to me. “Roxie, calm down.” “Half a million dollars and he bought me cheese puffs and took me to that sleaze bag motel? I’m gonna fucking kill that motherfucker!” I yelled. “Roxie –” I slammed my fists on my knees. “The least he could have done was bind my wrists with VELVET ROPE. He sure could have afforded it. Stupid jerk.

I’m an idiot. I’m ten times an idiot. God, I could just die.” Then I forged ahead because the last comment was too close for comfort these days. “Not die die, as in not-breathing die, but die figuratively, if you know what I mean.” Lee was grinning.

These boys need women who can take the heat without meltin’ like butter, and sometimes that heat is fiery. They need women who can give back their shit so they don’t walk all over ‘em and get bored out of their fucking skulls. And they need women who can go soft when the situation demands because they get hard knocks on a regular basis, sometimes literal y, and comin’ home to somethin’ soft is the only way to cope.

Dude,” I said low. “All cornfields are haunted. Trust me. I know.” Then I came up on my elbows so I was closer to him and I said quietly, “They whisper to you.”

I’m not going to fucking calm down. I’m going to hunt that bastard down and murder him.” “Oh fuck,” Hank rocked back on his heels, his eyes went to the ceiling, his hands went to his hips. “What?” I asked. “Nothin’.” “What?” I asked, louder. His eyes came back to me. “You aren’t huntin’ anyone down.” “Wel … no,” I said, staring at him like he was crazy. “I was just saying that because I’m mad as hell. I wouldn’t begin to know how to hunt him down.”

Everyone underestimates their own life. Funny thing is, in the end, all our stories - your life, my life, old Husain's life, they're the same. In fact, no matter where you go in the world, there is only one important story: of youth, and loss, and yearning for redemption. So we tell the same story, over and over. Just the details are different.

I mean, why would you want the funny sidekick when you can have the heroine?

I'm gonna ask ye ladies a question, and I bloody expect to be answered," he growled. "Who's the scoundrel been doin' some unwanted rootin' of yer cunts for pay?

Why do I always have to remind you to look to where the danger waits, Warrior. Sheesh, what would you do without me? “Uh, not be a murderous psycho?” Very funny.

Everyone underestimates their own life. Funny thing is, in the end, all our stories – your life, my life, old Husain’s life, they’re the same. In fact, no matter where you go in the world, there is only one important story: of youth, and loss, and yearning for redemption. So we tell the same story, over and over. Just the details are different.

Redemption is a funny thing. Even if we don’t ask for it—even if we don’t think we want it—sometimes we seek it out. In our words and our actions. Because something drives us to make right the things that we did. It’s what allows us to keep living with ourselves.

Nothing said family more than shared soap.

American girls shivered and quivered at the Aussie accent whispered against their bodies.

What is it?” There is almost nothing I could refuse him at this very moment. Sex on the picnic bench? Check. Strip off and do the Macarena on the grass? Check. Crawl under the table and do naughty things? Not much experience in that department, but…check. Ride off into the sunset? Double check.

It felt odd to have Regina laundering his clothes. 'Oh. If you’d rather clean them yourself . . .' No, that didn’t sound right, either.

In his letter, he’d written three different words. 'You’re not alone.' They swirled inside her head, solid and deep and resonant in a way that ethereal 'I love you' could never be.

I know I'm not funny. I mean, let's face it, I'm no Groucho Marx. But if you're a guy, and you're watching late night television, are you gonna start jacking off to Groucho? I don't think so!

Redemption is a funny thing. There are infinite ways to get lost and just as many roads to find a path home. We fall back on the wisdom of our earliest teachers and find our innocence in their eyes. We ask more of ourselves and actually live up to it. We open our hearts one more time ready to be screwed over, but hoping for that unconditional acceptance. We quiet the active cynic in our minds and let the biggest dope we know, the dreamer within, start to give directions again. The message becomes clear: take it easy on yourself, have patience, forgive, be merciful … have mercy.

At some point, I figured that it would be more effective and far funnier to embrace the ugliest, most terrifying things in the world--the Holocaust, racism, rape, et cetera. But for the sake of comedy, and the comedian's personal sanity, this requires a certain emotional distance. It's akin to being a shrink or a social worker. you might think that the most sensitive, empathetic person would make the best social worker, but that person would end up being soup on the floor. It really takes someone strong--someone, dare I say, with a big fat wall up--to work in a pool of heartbreak all day and not want to fucking kill yourself. But adopting a persona at once ignorant and arrogant allowed me to say what I didn't mean, even preach the opposite of what I believed. For me, it was a funny way to be sincere. And like the jokes in a roast, the hope is that the genuine sentiment--maybe even a goodness underneath the joke (however brutal) transcends.

He’d almost redoubled his efforts to charm her. Prepared a wink and a smile and a glib response but stopped. Every time he tried to charm her, she stiffened, so he’d given her the truth instead. 'I’ve nowhere else to be.' Surprisingly, it had worked.

K, boys, it’s shirts against skins. Lose ‘em,” Lucy said, pointing to the guys and ignoring Thad. “I beg your pardon?” Thad said, aghast. “Why do we have to be skins?” Josh complained. Lucy looked at Erin and they both shrugged and grabbed the hems of their shirts, preparing to haul them over their heads. “Whoa!” Sable said, covering his eyes immediately. “Wait,” Josh, Angelo, and Thad said at the same time. “Hell, yeah,” Blaze chimed in. The girls stopped right before they fully exposed their chest. “What? You guys act like none of you have ever seen a pair of boobs in a bra before. Josh saw mine a few hours ago and I know, for a fact, that three of you have seen hers outside the bra.” Lucy looked pointedly at Thad, Blaze, and Angelo. Erin’s head snapped in Josh’s direction. “JOSH!” she screeched, accidentally letting loose a snap of electricity.

The road to redemption might be damn hard, but in the end—if you reached the end—his father was right. It was worth it. Maribelle was worth it. Funny how her birth was the reason he’d started running, but she ended up being the reason he’d stopped. Life was really fucking funny that way.

I’m guessing you don’t have to share a bathroom at your house,” I say with the casual tone of someone who isn’t waving her half-naked bottom in the air in front of a hunky, semi-stranger and soon-to-be- boss. I push myself to my feet and edge my way back to the dresser, this time keeping my back to the wall. He snorts a laugh. “No. Nor do I have a back door in my bedroom or a collection of random people walking around my house.

Dear Mr. Chance and Ms. Brattle. Sorry about the mess. Great bed. Loved it. As a matter of fact, loved the whole house. Actually, I tried to kill your kids when I found them here. Yeah, funny story. Maybe not funny, hah hah.’” Astrid heard nervous laughter from the media people, or maybe just from the hotel staff who were hovering around the edges grabbing a glimpse of the Hollywood royalty. “‘Anyway, I missed and they got away. I don’t know what will happen to Sanjit and that stick-up-his butt Choo and the rest, but whatever happens next, it’s not on me. However . . .’” Astrid took a dramatic pause. “‘However, the rest of what happened was on me. Me, Caine Soren. You’ll probably be hearing a lot of crazy stories from kids. But what they didn’t know was that it was all me. Me. Me me. See, I had a power I never told anyone about. I had the power to make people do bad things. Crimes and whatnot. Especially Diana, who never did anything wrong on her own, by her own will, I mean. She—and the rest of them—were under my control. The responsibility is on me. I confess. Haul me away, officers.’” Astrid suddenly felt her throat tightening, although she’d read the letter many times already, and knew what it said. Rotten son of a . . . And then this. Redemption. Not a bad concept. Well, partial redemption. “It’s signed Caine Soren. And below that, ‘King of the FAYZ.’” It was a full confession. A lie: a blatant, not-very-convincing lie. But it would be just enough to make prosecutions very difficult. Caine’s role in the FAYZ, and the reality that strange powers had actually existed in that space, were widely known and accepted. Of course Caine had enjoyed writing it. It was his penultimate act of control. He was manipulating from beyond the grave.

Most people live in almost total darkness…people, millions of people whom you will never see, who don’t know you, never will know you, people who may try to kill you in the morning, live in a darkness which...if you have that funny terrible thing which every artist can recognize and no artist can define...you are responsible to those people to lighten, and it does not matter what happens to you. You are being used in the way a crab is useful, the way sand certainly has some function. It is impersonal. This force which you didn’t ask for, and this destiny which you must accept, is also your responsibility. And if you survive it, if you don’t cheat, if you don’t lie, it is not only, you know, your glory, your achievement, it is almost our only hope... Because only an artist can tell, and only artists have told since we have heard of man, what it is like for anyone who gets to this planet to survive it. What it is like to die, or to have somebody die; what it is like to be glad... The trouble is that although the artist can do it, the price that he has to pay himself and that you, the audience, must also pay, is a willingness to give up everything, to realize that although you spent twenty-seven years acquiring this house, this furniture, this position, although you spent forty years raising this child, these children, nothing, none of it belongs to you. You can only have it by letting it go. You can only take if you are prepared to give...It is a total risk of everything, of you and who you think you are, who you think you’d like to be, where you think you’d like to go...everything, and this forever, forever.

You’re not safe to go back there,” he said. “I’m going,” I returned. “We’ll see.” Jeez, there was just no shaking this guy. “You do know that there’s this little thing called the Nineteenth Amendment giving women the right to vote?” I asked. “I heard of that,” he said and there was a smile in his voice. “And there’s this whole movement called fem… in… is…im.” I said it slowly, like he was a dim child. “Where women started working, demanding equal pay for equal work, raising their voices on issues of the day, taking back the night, stuff like that.” He rolled into me, which made me roll onto my back. “Sounds familiar.” “Do you have an encyclopedia? Maybe we can look it up. If the words are too big for you to read, I’l read it out loud and explain as I go along.” He got up on his elbow. “Only if you do it naked.” I slapped his shoulder.

Antonio," Ash groaned, "you know I hate it when you eat at my desk." "I know," Antonio replied, "but I don't mind and so long as one of us is reasonable, I figured why not?

Here for business or pleasure, Mr. Wheeler?" "Redemption," Shane says.

He was a rogue agent, acting without my prince’s sanction. Also, we wrote a letter of apology. Don’t know what else you want from us.” “That’s funny,” I said. “I didn’t get one. Did you send it to my old apartment? That must be why. See, it burned down while I was protecting that asshole from the Redemption Choir.” “I’ll see that you get a copy,” Royce said.

Cecilia turned her gaze away from the girls and looked at the shimmering blue of their kidney-shaped swimming pool with its powerful underwater light: the perfect symbol of suburban bliss. Except for that strange intermittent sound, like a baby choking, that was coming from the pool filter. She could hear it right now. Cecilia had asked John-Paul to look at it weeks before he went to Chicago; he hadn’t got around to it, but he would have been furious if she’d arranged for some repair guy to come and fix it. It would have indicated lack of faith in his abilities. Of course, when he did finally look at it, he wouldn’t be able to fix it and she’d have to get the guy in anyway. It was frustrating. Why hadn’t that been part of his stupid lifelong redemption program: Do what my wife asks immediately so she doesn’t feel like a nag.

Above his head, the drip had spread, dark and blooming across the plaster. A spider watched him from a gauzy web above the washstand. Light from his shrinking candle reflected in the grime on the window. He was pretty sure there was something crawling in his mattress. His stomach growled its displeasure, and somewhere a pig slept on his nightshirt. But for some reason, he was pleased.

He was a river to her sandstone resolution. He flowed and she eroded.

Don’t tell Tex you’re gonna buy a franchise, he’ll go ballistic.” What he said made me stop and I stared up at him stupidly in the dark. “What’s wrong with franchises?” I asked. “They’re the death of America,” Uncle Tex boomed from the next room and both Hank and I froze. “Now, will you two keep it the fuck down. The walls are paper thin and you’re disturbin’ the cats!

Forgiveness is a funny thing,” Cranfield mused. “So often, we spend time thinking about whether we want to forgive someone or not.” Cranfield stopped and turned to face Michael. “When in fact, the person we really need to forgive is ourselves. Until we do that, whatever else we do is empty. Meaningless.” Michael winced.

The thing we don’t want to say is that our world today is based entirely on self. We sit on the throne of our own lives. It’s about self-expression, self-love and then somebody does something to you.That’s why this film has been controversial in a funny and unexpected way. What has been controversial, of course, is families loving their enemy. But when you understand Christ and understand that he paid an unpayable debt for you, and that before God, we all need forgiveness in a way that is just as severe as even a murderer. It gives you the resources to humble yourself before even your enemies and extend the same mercy that you’ve experienced in your own life. That’s something Christianity has done from the beginning in every justice initiative that has put us all on the same level. We can love anybody no matter what they’ve done, where they’ve from, what they look like, and the ground for the cross is flat. There’s this false idea that one day, we’re going to just all get along just because there’s some human ideal that we have. But we all know that, at least within the Christian context and the Judeo Christian belief, is that [is] impossible, apart from redemption. It changed human heart not just, they say, politics turns the bush, but the gospel cuts the root. With these families, you see people who have been changed and forgiven. Therefore, they have the ability to extend that. It was something that led me through the whole process. I feel like I made the whole movie from the place of no one, and I stand the need of that same mercy and grace.

You’re funny, Pen.” Ah, the kiss of death. “Thanks.” “And sweet.” He waves Homicide Hank over to the curb in front of us. “Innocent,” he continues, half to himself. “Quirky, sexy, strong, brave, and a bit naive.” “I’m my very own romantic comedy.