Troy Movie Quotes

I’ve seen this movie, you know. It always ends with them falling in love.

I love the movie "Titanic." It's my favorite romantic comedy!

What were they thinking when they scheduled this movie for December?" Troy said. "They weren't thinking of us, I can tell you. May," he said, shaking his head. "May is when you release a Star Wars movie. If this movie were a May movie, the line would already be around the block.

What's your favorite Star Wars movie?" Gabe asked. Uncharacteristically. Elena looked over at him. "You might as well ask me who my favorite child is," Troy said.

The house is dead, part from Troy who’s limping around just outside the bedroom doors. “What happened to you?” “Mrs Crocker has fat fingers.” It takes a moment for me to work out what he’s saying. “You let her finger your asshole?” A pained moan escapes him and he starts to pace. “She said she’d pay double…said she saw it in a movie. It was supposed to make me come instantly.” “And?” “What?” he breathes out. “Did you come?” “No. I squealed like a banshee and hauled ass out of there. I think half my insides are hanging out of my ass. Will you check?” he says, pants already down to his knees.

Troy’s girlfriend, Sandra, brought them all pizza that night, and when she got there she joined the dramatic re-enactment. She said they had to rewind so she could elaborate for Elena on how dashing Obi-Wan was. “Ewan McGregor,” she groaned. “I made Troy grow a beard after the second movie.” “I also grew a Padawan braid,” Troy said.

There is great power in music. The main reason movies and television shows have soundtracks is to heighten our emotional experience. Music can move us to feel all sorts of emotions including excitement, love, and joy. It is communal. It brings us together in ways that other team-building activities can’t.

I’m guessing this is your first line,” Troy said. “How can you tell?” she asked. “I can tell,” he said, chuckling. “I can always tell. It’s Gabe’s first line, too.” “We were eight when the last Star Wars movie came out,” Gabe said, not looking up from his book. “Revenge of the Sith!” Troy said. “That wasn’t much of a line anyway. It was no Empire.” “Nothing is,” Elena said. Troy’s face got somber. “Hear, hear, Elena. Hear, hear.” All

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Today really was like a Disney movie," Troy said as he watched them walk away. Harris took his hand. "It was amazing. And I have a great idea for an ending." "That sounds like a different kind of movie." "There isn't a Disney movie where the prince's boyfriend rims him until he begs to be fucked?" Troy huffed. "I don't know. I don't watch Disney movies.

It was no wonder Dustin immersed himself in his horror movies. It was something different, something to distract him from the boredom — a cheap thrill.

If Troy Callahan had ever been in a quieter locker room, he didn't know when. That included the year Troy played for the New York Rangers and they lost to the Washington Capitals in the division finals. The locker room might have been quiet, but there was at least the air of sweaty, tired athletes who'd left it all out on the ice even if the result wasn't the one they wanted. The Asheville Ravens' locker room? It was like a goddamn funeral scene in a silent movie.

Sicky Frog looked miserable. “Why is she so scared of Hecate?” I asked. Sicky Frog had no answers. “Good talk,” I said. “Hope you feel better soon.” Second idea: I stopped by my history teacher’s classroom. Dr. Sharma had her prep period when I had English. Since we were watching a movie that day in English, I figured I could miss a few minutes. Dr. Sharma was pretty cool—and not just because she’d said Very good, Mr. Jackson the day before. She knew a lot about ancient cultures. She’d been bugging me to pick a topic for my paper on a forgotten historical figure. I’d been avoiding it, since I’d met so many forgotten historical figures and killed them all. Now, though, maybe I could ask Dr. Sharma what she knew about Hecuba, queen of Troy. She might be able to tell me something that would help me find the hellhound. If it saved me from breaking my brain against a mountain of history books, all the better. I strolled up to her open doorway and froze when I looked inside. The man who was eating a late breakfast at Dr. Sharma’s desk was definitely not Dr. Sharma. His dark hair and beard were flecked with gray. He wore a rumpled tweed jacket, tie, and dress shirt, with a flannel blanket over his lap. His old-fashioned wheelchair had hand-pushed steel wheels and well-worn black leather armrests. He held a half-eaten bagel in one hand and a steaming cup of tea in other. I registered all these details with perfect clarity, but somehow, I still did not recognize him. The best way I can describe the feeling is like bungee jumping. One second, you’re at the top of a cliff. The next,