Ghost World Quotes

[Seymour is trying to interest a fellow collector in a record he's selling]
Paul, the Fussy Guy - Record Collector: It has a enlarged centre hole and a hair-crack.
Seymour: But the crack is so tight it's completely inaudible.
Paul, the Fussy Guy - Record Collector: But a tight hair-crack is just that - a crack. I don't collect

cracked records. I only pay premium on mint records. Seymour, you know that. Please.
[he walks away. Enid, who has been listening, goes up to Seymour]
Enid: So what was all that about enlarged holes and tight cracks?

[Enid and Rebecca try to call on Josh at his apartment. But there's answer at the door]
Enid: I bet he's in there jerking off.
Rebecca: I bet he never jerks off.
Enid: Yeah, he's beyond human stuff like that.
Rebecca: Should we leave a note?
Enid: Yeah, you got a pen?

[Rebecca pulls out a pen, Enid takes a tag left on Josh's door handle and writes on it, leaning on Rebecca's back]
Enid: [writing] Dear Josh, we came by to fuck you, but you were not home. Therefore you are gay. Signed Tiffany and Amber.
[she puts it back on Josh's door handle]
Rebecca: You're gonna leave that?
Enid:

Why not?

Cineplex Manager: What the hell is wrong with you?
Enid: What? I was just joking around with the customers. It's my schtick.
Cineplex Manager: Well, lose it! And why aren't you pushing the larger sizes? Didn't you get training about upsizing?
Enid: Yeah. But I feel really weird. It's pretty sleazy.

Cineplex Manager: It's not OPTIONAL!
[he leaves her]
Enid: [rolls her eyes] Jesus.
[a customer comes up to the counter]
Soda Customer: Hi, can I get a medium 7-Up?
Enid: Medium? Why sir, do you not know that for a mere 25 cents more you can purchase a large beverage? And you know, I'm only

telling because we're such good friends, medium is really only for suckers who don't know the concept of value.

[Seymour shows Enid his "record room"]
Enid: [looking at Seymour's record cabinet] Are all these records?
Seymour: I've got about 1500 78's at this point. I've tried to pare down my collection to just the essentials.
Enid: [looking at all the classic memorabilia in the room] Look at this room. This is like my dream room! Look

at all this stuff... You are, like, the luckiest guy in the world. I would kill to have stuff like this.
Seymour: Please, go ahead and kill me.
Enid: Oh, come on, what are you talking about?
Seymour: Well, you think it's healthy to obsessively collect things? You can't connect with other people, so you fill your life with

stuff. I'm just like all the rest of these pathetic collector losers.
Enid: No, you're not, you're a cool guy, Seymour!
Seymour: If I'm so cool how come I haven't had a girlfriend in like four years? I can't even remember the last time a girl talked to me.
Enid: I'm talking to you. You know, I bet there are tons of women who

go out with you in a minute. I know I could you a date in, like, two seconds.
Seymour: Good luck.
Enid: I mean it. You leave everything to me. I'm gonna be your own personal dating service.
Seymour: Yeah, well, we should get back.
Enid: By the end of this summer, you're gonna be up to your neck in

pussy.
Seymour: Jesus!

Enid: You know what my number one fantasy used to be?
Seymour: What?
Enid: I used to think about one day, just not telling anyone, and going off to some random place. And I'd just... disappear. And they'd never see me again. Did you ever think about stuff like that?
Seymour: I guess I probably did when I was

your age.
Enid: You know what we should do? We should just get in your car right now, and just drive off. Just find some totally new place and start a whole new life. Fuck everybody.
Seymour: I'm, uh, I'm not in any good condition to drive.
Enid: I'm serious! I'm just so sick of everybody. Why can't I just do what I want?

Seymour: What do you want?
Enid: What do you want?
[a pause. They look into each other's eyes]
Enid: Don't you like me?

Enid: How come in all that time I was trying to get you a date, you never asked me out?
Seymour: [surprised] You're a beautiful young girl, I couldn't imagine you'd have any interest in me except as an amusingly cranky eccentric curiosity.
Enid: At least you're not like every other stupid guy in the world. All they care about is

guitars or sports.
Seymour: I hate sports.

Enid: You know, we need to find a place where you can go to meet women who share your interests.
Seymour: Well maybe I don't want to meet someone who shares my interests. I hate my interests.
Enid: Yeah, yeah, just list your five main interests in order of importance.
Seymour: Uh... I'd have to put traditional

jazz, blues and then ragtime at the top of the list...
Enid: Right, so, let's just say music. That way we only use up one.

[In a cafe, a shy young man has just given them a flyer, telling him that his band is playing there on Friday night]
Enid: God, what a dork.
Rebecca: You're just jealous.
Enid: Trust me, at this point I'm past the fact that every single guy likes you better than me.
Rebecca: Oh, face it, you just hate

every single guy on the face of the earth.
Enid: That's not true. I just hate all these extroverted, obnoxious, pseudo-bohemian losers.

Enid: [about Seymour's garage sale] It was so cute how he had his own little bags. I thought I was going to start crying.
Rebecca: Yeah, he should totally just kill himself.
[she looks through the classified ads in a newpaper]
Rebecca: Oh, here's one. Oh, but you have to share a non-smoking feminist and her two cats.

Enid: I don't know... I kinda like him. He's the exact opposite of everything I really hate. In a way, he's such a clueless dork, he's almost kinda cool.
Rebecca: That guy is many things but he's definetely not cool.