We don't have to think up a title till we get the doggone book written.
I can't understand people missing a show because they're sick: They've missed their best performance. You have an obstacle to overcome, and you reach for the heavens, and, doggone it, the heavens answer you.
If I had coached in high school for 60 years, I would have loved it. Getting to the top was not a goal. I welcomed the opportunities, but I just believed do the best doggone job you can, and good things will happen.
You adhere to a philosophy, but part of the philosophy I have is that I don't want to be too doggone inflexible that I miss a good player.
Chris Washington: I didn't get to met you, actually, up close. I'm Chris.
Walter: I know who you are. She is lovely, isn't she?
Chris Washington: Rose? Yes, she is.
Walter: One of a kind. Top of the line! A real doggone keeper.
[laughs]
Daffy Duck: I've worked with a lot of withe-quackerth, but you are dethpicable
Donald Duck: Doggone stubborn little- That did it! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Daffy Duck: Thith ith the latht time I work with thomeone with a th-peech impediment.
Donald F. Duck: Oh, yeah?
Donald F. Duck: [shuts
Daffy in a piano]
Daffy Duck: Thith meanth war.
Beaver: [struggling with a log] Ah-ah-ah, busy sonny, busy! Gotta slide this sycamore to the - ung - swamp!
Tramp: But this'll only take a second of your time...
Beaver: Only a second! Listen, listen sonny, you realize every second, seventy centimeters of water is wasted over that spillway?
Tramp: Yeah, but...
Beaver: Gotta get this log movin', sonny, gotta get it movin'! T'ain't the cuttin' take's the time, it's the doggone haulin'!
Tramp: [looking from the leash to a branch on the log] The hauling! Exactly! Now, what you need is...
Beaver: [chewing through part of the log] Better bisect this section here...
Tramp: What you need is a log puller.
[yelling]
Tramp: I SAID A LOG PULLER!
Beaver: I ain't deef, sonny. There's no need to... Did you say log puller?
Tramp: [like a salesman] Haha, and by lucky coincidence, you see before you, modeled by the lovely little lady, the new, improved, patented, handy-dandy,
never-fail little giant log puller. The busy beaver's friend!
Beaver: You don't say!
Tramp: Guaranteed not to wear, tear, rip or ravel. Turn around, sister, and show the customer the merchandise. And it cuts log-hauling time sixty-six percent!
Beaver: Sixty-six percent, eh? Figure that! Well, how's it work?
Tramp: [demonstrating] Why, it's no work at all! You merely slip this ring over the limb like this, and haul it off!
Beaver: Uh, say, d'you mind if I slip it on for size?
Tramp: Help yourself, friend, help yourself!
Beaver: Okay! Hehe. Don't mind if I do! Uh... how'd'ya get the carn-starnded thing off, sonny?
Tramp: Glad you brought that up, friend, glad you brought that up! To remove it, simply place the strap between your teeth...
Beaver: Like this?
Tramp: Kee-rect, friend. Now bite HARD!
[beaver bites the muzzle off]
Tramp: You see?
Lady: It's off!
Beaver: Say, that *is* simple!
Jefferson Smith: Now, doggone it, there's something wrong here! I know there's something wrong! And I'm not gonna vote on that thing until I get some more questions answered.
Senator Joseph Paine: Jeff, you're fighting windmills.
Jefferson Smith: I am?