Good Will Hunting Quotes

Sean: [sitting on a bench in in front of a pond in park] Thought about what you said to me the other day, about my painting. Stayed up half the night thinking about it. Something occurred to me... fell into a deep peaceful sleep, and haven't thought about you since. Do you know what occurred to me?
Will: No.
Sean: You're just a kid,

you don't have the faintest idea what you're talkin' about.
Will: Why thank you.
Sean: It's all right. You've never been out of Boston.
Will: Nope.
Sean: So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work,

political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me

what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, "once more unto the breach dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a

sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting

up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. And look at you... I don't see an intelligent, confident man... I see a cocky,

scared shitless kid. But you're a genius Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine, and you ripped my fucking life apart. You're an orphan right?
[Will nods]
Sean: You think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you

are, because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally... I don't give a shit about all that, because you know what, I can't learn anything from you, I can't read in some fuckin' book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. Then I'm fascinated. I'm in. But you don't want to do that do you sport? You're terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.

Will: [during a therapy session, after his job interview with the NSA] Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but I'll take a shot. Say I'm working at N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, 'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the

location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never met, never had no problem with, get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Oh, send in the Marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't

them when their number got called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some kid from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes back to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile, he

realizes the only reason he was over there in the first place was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And, of course, the oil companies used the skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices. A cute little ancillary benefit for them, but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. And they're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, of course,

and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and fuckin' play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So now my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's got to walk to the fuckin' job interviews, which sucks 'cause the shrapnel in his ass is

givin' him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starvin', 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat, the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what did I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. I figure fuck it, while I'm at it why not just shoot my buddy, take his job, give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village,

club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president.

Sean: My father was an alcoholic. Mean fuckin' drunk. He'd come home hammered, looking to whale on somebody. So I'd provoke him, so he wouldn't go after my mother and little brother. Interesting nights were when he wore his rings.
Will: He used to just put a belt, a stick, and a wrench on the table. Just say, "Choose."
Sean: Well I

gotta go with the belt there.
Will: I used to go with the wrench.
Sean: Why the wrench?
Will: Cause fuck him, that's why.
Sean: Your foster father?
Will: Yeah.
[pause]
Will: So, uh, what is it, like, Will has an attachment disorder? Is it all that

stuff?
[Sean nods]
Will: Fear of abandonment? Is that why I broke up with Skylar?
Sean: I didn't know you had.
Will: Yeah, I did.
Sean: You wanna talk about it?
Will: No.
Sean: Hey, Will? I don't know a lot. You see this? All this shit?

[Holds up the file, and drops it on his desk]
Sean: It's not your fault.
Will: [Will shrugs] Yeah, I know that.
[Will averts his eyes to the floor]
Sean: Look at me son.
[Will locks eyes with Sean]
Sean: It's not your fault.
Will: [Will nods] I know.

Sean: No. It's not your fault.
Will: I know
Sean: No, no, you don't. It's not your fault.
[Sean moves closer to Will]
Sean: Hmm?
Will: I know.
[Will stands up, trying to keep distance]
Sean: It's not your fault.
Will:

Alright.
Sean: It's not your fault.
[Will closes his eyes, he's fighting for control]
Sean: It's not your fault.
Will: Don't fuck with me.
[Will shoves Sean back]
Will: Don't fuck with me, Sean, not you!
Sean: It's not your fault. It's not your fault.
[Will

breaks into sobs. They hug]
Sean: Fuck them, ok?

Will: [continuing the therapy session] I don't care if Helen of Troy walks in the room, that's Game 6!
Sean: Oh, Helen of Troy...
Will: Oh my God; and who are these fuckin' friends of yours, they let you get away with that?
Sean: Oh... they had to.
Will: W-w-w-what'd you say to them?

Sean: I just slid my ticket across the table, and I said, "Sorry, guys; I gotta see about a girl."
Will: I gotta go see about a girl?
Sean: Yeah.
Will: That's what you said? And they let you get away with that?
Sean: Oh, yeah. They saw in my eyes that I meant it.

Will: You're kiddin' me.
Sean: No, I'm not kiddin' you, Will. That's why I'm not talkin' right now about some girl I saw at a bar twenty years ago and how I always regretted not going over and talking to her. I don't regret the 18 years I was married to Nancy. I don't regret the six years I had to give up counseling when she got sick. And I don't regret the

last years when she got really sick. And I sure as hell don't regret missin' the damn game. That's regret.
[pause]
Will: Wow... Woulda been nice to catch that game, though.
Sean: [sheepishly] I didn't know Pudge was gonna hit a homer.

Will: [both leaning on a pick up truck while drinking beers and smoking cigarettes on a construction site] What do I wanna way outta here for? I'm gonna live here the rest of my fuckin' life. We'll be neighbors, have little kids, take 'em to Little League up at Foley Field.
Chuckie: Look, you're my best friend, so don't take this the wrong way but, in 20

years if you're still livin' here, comin' over to my house, watchin' the Patriots games, workin' construction, I'll fuckin' kill ya. That's not a threat, that's a fact, I'll fuckin' kill ya.
Will: What the fuck you talkin' about?
Chuckie: You got somethin' none of us have...
Will: Oh, come on! What? Why is it always this? I

mean, I fuckin' owe it to myself to do this or that. What if I don't want to?
Chuckie: No. No, no no no. Fuck you, you don't owe it to yourself man, you owe it to me. Cuz tomorrow I'm gonna wake up and I'll be 50, and I'll still be doin' this shit. And that's all right. That's fine. I mean, you're sittin' on a winnin' lottery ticket. And you're too much of a pussy to cash

it in, and that's bullshit. 'Cause I'd do fuckin' anything to have what you got. So would any of these fuckin' guys. It'd be an insult to us if you're still here in 20 years. Hangin' around here is a fuckin' waste of your time.

Chuckie: [in a bar] Are we gonna have a problem here?
Clark: No, no, no, no! There's no problem here. I was just hoping you might give me some insight into the evolution of the market economy in the southern colonies. My contention is that prior to the Revolutionary War, the economic modalities, especially in the southern colonies, could be most aptly

described as agrarian pre-capitalist.
Will: Of course that's your contention. You're a first-year grad student; you just got finished reading some Marxian historian, Pete Garrison probably. You're gonna be convinced of that 'till next month when you get to James Lemon. Then you're going to be talking about how the economies of Virginia and Pennsylvania were entrepreneurial

and capitalist way back in 1740. That's gonna last until next year; you're gonna be in here regurgitating Gordon Wood, talkin' about, you know, the pre-revolutionary utopia and the capital-forming effects of military mobilization.
Clark: Well, as a matter of fact, I won't, because Wood drastically underestimates the impact of social...
Will: "Wood

drastically underestimates the impact of social distinctions predicated upon wealth, especially inherited wealth"? You got that from Vickers' "Work in Essex County," page 98, right? Yeah, I read that too. Were you gonna plagiarize the whole thing for us? Do you have any thoughts of your own on this matter? Or do you, is that your thing, you come into a bar, read some obscure passage and then

pretend - you pawn it off as your own, as your own idea just to impress some girls, embarrass my friend?
Will: See, the sad thing about a guy like you is, in 50 years you're gonna start doin' some thinkin' on your own and you're going to come up with the fact that there are two certainties in life: one, don't do that, and two, you dropped 150 grand on a fuckin' education

you could have got for a dollar fifty in late charges at the public library!
Clark: Yeah, but I will have a degree. And you'll be servin' my kids fries at a drive-thru on our way to a skiing trip.
Will: Yeah, maybe. But at least I won't be unoriginal.

Will: [during a therapy session, referring to Sean's wife] So, when did you know, like, that she was the one for you?
Sean: October 21, 1975.
Will: Jesus Christ. You know the fuckin' date?
Sean: Oh yeah. 'Cause it was Game 6 of the World Series. Biggest game in Red Sox history.
Will:

Yeah, sure.
Sean: My friends and I had, you know, slept out on the sidewalk all night to get tickets.
Will: You got tickets?
Sean: Yep. Day of the game. I was sittin' in a bar, waitin' for the game to start, and in walks this girl. Oh, it was an amazing game, though. You know, bottom of the eighth, Carbo ties it up at 6-6. It

went to twelve. Bottom of the twelfth, in stepped Carlton Fisk. Old Pudge. Steps up to the plate, you know, and he's got that weird stance.
Will: Yeah, yeah.
Sean: And BAM! He clocks it. High fly ball down the left field line! Thirty-five thousand people, on their feet, yellin' at the ball, but that's not because of Fisk. He's wavin' at the ball like

a madman.
Will: Yeah, I've seen...
Sean: He's going, "Get over! Get over! Get OVER!" And then it HITS the foul pole. OH, he goes apeshit, and 35,000 fans, you know, they charge the field, you know?
Will: Yeah, and he's fuckin' bowlin' police out of the way!
Sean: Goin', "God! Get out of the way! Get 'em

away!" Banging people...
Will: I can't fuckin' believe you had tickets to that fuckin' game!
Sean: Yeah!
Will: Did you rush the field?
Sean: [surprised at the question] No, I didn't rush the fuckin' field; I wasn't there.
Will: What?
Sean: No - I was in a

bar havin' a drink with my future wife.
Will: You missed Pudge Fisk's home run?
Sean: Oh, yeah.
Will: To have a fuckin' drink with some lady you never met?
Sean: Yeah, but you shoulda seen her; she was a stunner.

Sean: [in a gentlemen's bar] Hey, Gerry, In the 1960s there was a young man that graduated from the University of Michigan. Did some brilliant work in mathematics. Specifically bounded harmonic functions. Then he went on to Berkeley. He was assistant professor. Showed amazing potential. Then he moved to Montana, and blew the competition away.
Lambeau: Yeah,

so who was he?
Sean: Ted Kaczynski.
Lambeau: Haven't heard of him.
Sean: [yelling to the bartender] Hey, Timmy!
Timmy: Yo.
Sean: Who's Ted Kaczynski?
Timmy: Unabomber.
[Lambeau winces as he realizes the point Sean is making]

Will: [during a therapy session] You know, I was on this plane once. And I'm sittin' there and the captain comes on and he does his whole, "We'll be cruising at 35,000 feet," then he puts the mike down but he forgets to turn it off. Then he turns to the copilot and goes, "You know, all I could go for right now is a fuckin' blow job and a cup of coffee." So the stewardess fuckin'

goes bombin' up from the back of the plane to tell him the mic's still on, and this guy behind me goes, "Hey, hon, don't forget the coffee!"

Skylar: [in Skylar's dorm room] What is your obsession with this money? My father died when I was 13 and I inherited this money. You don't think that every day I wake up and wish I could give it back? That I would give it back in a second if I could have one more day with him? But I can't, and that's my life and I deal with it. So don't put your shit on me when you're the one

that's afraid.
Will: I'm afraid? What am I afraid of? What the fuck am I afraid of?
Skylar: You're afraid of me! You're afraid that I won't love you back! Fuck it, I wanna give it a shot! At least I'm honest with you.

Sean: [during a therapy session, after coming from the job interview with the NSA] Do you feel like you're alone, Will?
Will: [laughs] What?
Sean: Do you have a soul mate?
Will: Define that.
Sean: Somebody who challenges you.
Will: I have Chuckie.

Sean: You know Chuck; he's family. He'd lie down in fuckin' traffic for you. No, I'm talking about someone who opens up things for you - touches your soul.
Will: I got - I got...
Sean: Who?
Will: ...I got plenty.
Sean: Well, name them.
Will: Shakespeare,

Nietzsche, Frost, O'Connor, Pope, Locke...
Sean: That's great. They're all dead.
Will: Not to me they're not.
Sean: Well, you don't have a lot of dialogue with them. You can't give back to them, Will.
Will: Well, not without some serious smelling salts and a heater.
[laughs]

Sean: Yeah. Yeah, that's what I'm saying. You'll never have that kind of relationship in a world where you're always afraid to take the first step because all you see is every negative thing ten miles down the road.