Dark Angel Season 1 Quotes.
If you’d like to contribute your favourite quotes, please use the Contact form.
MAX: “Hope is for losers. It’s a con job people trip behind till they finally get a grip on the cold, hard truth.
KENDRA: I feel almost human.
MAX: Yeah. Me, too.
EYES ONLY: Do not attempt to adjust your set. This is a Streaming Freedom Video bulletin. The cable hack will last exactly 60 seconds. It cannot be traced, it cannot be stopped and it is the only free voice left in the city.
MAX: I’m really glad we’re having this conversation. You’re right, I was angry at you but talking about it . . . the scales have fallen from my eyes and I realize now that . . . it was all my fault. Could you ever forgive me?
LOGAN: You have good taste. French, 1920s, attributed to Chitarus.
MAX: Whoever that is. LOGAN: Oh. So . . .what, you liked it ’cause it was shiny? MAX: No, because it’s the Egyptian goddess Bast, the goddess who comprehends all goddesses, eye of Ra, protector, avenger, destroyer, giver of life who lives forever.
MAX: Kendra, this is a motorcycle. Its sole reason for being is to go fast, very fast. Not for you to use as a clothesline. Now, make no mistake. I love you as a friend and a roommate, but I love my motorcycle more. Stay away from the bike, okay?
PETER: We trying to ID the perp or your new girlfriend?
LOGAN: If I just got my ass handed to me by a size three I might be inclined to mind my own business.
MAX: I don’t know how to break this to you, Normal. We’re all looking for another job.
MAX: Girls kick ass. Says so on the T-shirt.
MAX: Are you high? I’ve got people looking to either put me in a cage for the rest of my life, turn me into a science project, or kill me. Probably all three. Now I’ve managed to drop off the radar screen and I plan to keep it that way.
MAX: So what do you think? Maybe after I betray the woman who trusts me and you grease her and her daughter we could, um . . . go on a date?
MAX (fighting with Bruno): Pathetic. Come on, you’re not even trying.
KENDRA: There’s only one word for you and it starts with an “s”, ends with a “t”, and it’s got a “u” and “l” in the middle.
KENDRA: A dyslexic slut at that.
ERIC (coming out of the bathroom in a towel): Good morning, ladies. We didn’t really get a chance to talk last night. I’m Eric, and you are?
KENDRA: Leaving. That better not be my towel.
MAX: Eric! I have to ask you a question. Can you be perfectly honest with me?
ERIC: I’ll try.
MAX: Do you have an uncle?
MAX: Does he work for the sector police?
MAX: What does he do?
ERIC: Well, if there’s a mess of some kind in the organization, he’s in charge of cleaning it up.
MAX: Like internal affairs?
ERIC: More like janitorial . . .
NORMAL: Well, well, well . . . so far, your moron colleagues have come up with the following excuses for why you’re strolling in here at the crack of noon – you had a dental emergency, your aunt died . . . again, and my personal favorite from this idiot – you were detained by the sector police for practicing witchcraft. Now, would you care to further insult my intelligence?
MAX: I overslept.
CINDY: “What drugs?” Hey! The pills you got Max hooked on live with the Tidy Bowl man now.
BLING: Got a thing for this girl, don’t you?
LOGAN: Why does everybody keep saying that?
CINDY: Damn, girl, what’s in those pills?
CINDY: Bottom line – that SOB got what he deserved. He went splat.
LOGAN: I always knew that underneath that bioengineered, military-issue armor plating there was a beating heart. MAX: Let’s not go overboard here. I’m not signing up to join the Logan Cale brigade for the defense of widows, small children, and lost animals.
LOGAN: You could be field commander.
MAX: I think not.
LOGAN: You know, you were much sweeter when you weren’t feeling well.
MAX: The bitch is back.
411 On The DL
MAX: I don’t want a used ride. I want my motorcycle.
ORIGINAL CINDY: It’s just a machine.
MAX: It’s an extension of my soul if there is such a thing.
MAX: I never pictured you as the married type. You’re more the lone warrior. You know – windmills, armor.
MAX: Oh, please tell me you’re not one of those people — Because a raindrop fell in the ocean 10,000 years ago and a butterfly farted in India, you and I are sitting right here right now enjoying a cup of coffee that tastes like goat piss.
SAM: Anything’s possible.
MAX: Unravel this mystery, grasshopper. What’s the sound of one hand hitting you upside your head, hmm?
LYDECKER: You look like you were around in the days before the pulse. Your parents brought you over to visit your little friends. Carpools to soccer games, art schools. And do you really think, Miss Glasser, that your childhood prepared you for the life that you have to live now?
MAX: My childhood wasn’t quite like that.
MAX: You’re such a gentleman. (slams the terrorist to the wall) Too bad I’m not a lady.
LOGAN: Ordering myself a new wheelchair. Looking for one with the jet thrusters.
LOGAN: So . . . that was Lydecker.
MAX: Yep, my own private Anti-Christ, up close and personal.
LOGAN: Shorter than I imagined.
MAX: But you know what really bums my ass out? I had a chance to swipe some towels from the hotel and I totally spaced it.
NORMAL: Yeah, well, I’d like to take off every June 12, but I don’t.
HERBAL: What’s June 12?
NORMAL: June 12 is the birthday of my personal hero and perhaps the nation’s greatest visionary – George Herbert Walker Bush.
ZACK: Did you look in the yellow pages under “black helicopter operations”?
LOGAN: Oh, another Manticore wit.
MAX: We’ll play “pin the name on the barcode” later.
Blah Blah, Woof Woof
MAX: Oh, I forgot. No fun for Logan Cale. The world’s coming to an end. Fight the power. Protect the downtrodden. Blah blah, woof woof.
HERBAL: Um, you got to take comfort in the words of the great Bob Marley: “Me don’t swim too tough so me don’t go out in water too deep.”
SKETCHY: That just didn’t help me out at all.
NORMAL: Well, well, well. Look who decided to come in today.
MAX: Don’t bust my chops, Normal, or I might snap and kill again.
KENDRA: Max, you can do this. I’ve watched you tear down and rebuild a motorcycle in under two hours.
MAX: Different skill set.
MAX: Don’t hold up the war on my account.
LOGAN: The world will still be broken in the morning.
BRUNO: You got a thing for tying up guys, don’t you?
MAX: I save it all for you, Bruno.
BRUNO: I’m serious! I gotta call my kid.
MAX: You actually have offspring? Is it considered Homo sapien?
SKETCHY: One thing you can say about Normal is at least he knows who he is.
ORIGINAL CINDY: A constipated, crusty, angry, rhythm-free, Republican white man?
JONAS: Of course, if you’re shacked up with him, you’re probably one of those free thinkers, too, and think I’m talking through my hat.
MAX (smiling sweetly): Not unless you wear your hat on your ass.
HERBAL: I am very well, thank you.
ORIGINAL CINDY: Forget to put water in the bong, boo? You talking strange.
The Kidz Are Aiight
MAX: You called me, right? You remembered my number.
ZACK: It’s not the same.
MAX: Yes, you can do it if you try.
ZACK: No, it’s different with you. I mean, how could I forget . . . single thing about you? How could I?
MAX: Eyes Only just made himself another enemy.
LOGAN: Well, it was getting a little quiet around here.
ORIGINAL CINDY: By the way, some of those black-helicopter storm-trooper folks stopped by, asking about a transgenic teenage killing machine. I said you were out.
MAX: Donald Lydecker, wherever you are, you can kiss my genetically-engineered ass!
MAX: It’s good to know that when the superhero’s otherwise occupied, the sidekick’s ready to step in.
Shorties in Love
ORIGINAL CINDY: What? You never had a manicure before, boo?
MAX: No. Sounds too much like Manticore.
BEN: Nothing went wrong with me! I’m doing what I was made to do, what we were taught to do!
MAX: Hunt people down to perform amateur dental surgery? I must’ve missed that class.
LYDECKER: You think this is all some kind of joke? These kids are like puppies you can bring home and housebreak? They were designed to kill. Coldly . . . efficiently . . . and happily. You think because she’s so pretty that she isn’t as dangerous? They’re all killers. All they need is a trigger. You may think you have some kind of relationship between the two of you, but let me tell you something, son. She’s not the girl next door. You have no idea what she’s capable of doing.
I And I Am A Camera
MYSTERY MAN (to Logan): So, what’s the chair do? I mean . . . (imitates shooting) Or are your powers mostly mental?
LOGAN: Mostly mental, yeah.
MYSTERY MAN: You’re the brains. She’s the brawn. What happened? You get bit by a spider? Struck by lightning?
(Mystery man unzips his pants, turns around and opens his long coat)
LOGAN: I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking at here.
MYSTERY MAN: Not to be an alarmist here, but can we be certain that these drones aren’t being deployed from some other dimension?
LOGAN: I don’t think we’re dealing with anything quite so esoteric.
Hit A Sista Back
MADAME X: Mix of X5 and human DNA has almost exclusively resulted in offspring of spectacular mediocrity.
MADAME X: “Hello, Mr. Smith, your wife’s a genetically engineered soldier escaped from a secret government lab and you’re in terrible danger.”
MAX: We got guys stationed at the east and west exits, the lobby and the roof. From 0900 to 1700, two more posing as repairmen in the apartment across the street.
TINGA: What, the old plumber gag? I thought that went out with J. Edgar Hoover.
MAX: Man loves the classics.
ZACK: If she’s smart, she’ll tell him to take the kid and go. Otherwise, they’re going to wind up sharing a suite back at Manticore.
MAX: You’re a real family values guys, aren’t you?
SEBASTIAN: Could always ask your in-house cat burglar.
LOGAN: She’s not in the loop on this little project and I want to keep it that way.
SEBASTIAN: No reason she needs to know what the chip’s for.
LOGAN: Well, that’s sneaky. I like it.
MAX: Are you sure about all this? Pierpont Lempkin and the Taliban after some star wars widget and a robotic arm somewhere? Next thing you’re going to tell me aliens are involved.
LOGAN: I wouldn’t rule it out.
LOGAN (in Max’s head): Can you make out with me while we wait?
LOGAN: Can you make out anything past the gate?
And Jesus Brought a Casserole
LYDECKER: No maid service. No wake-up call. No mints on the pillow.
MOTEL CLERK: No worries. We pride ourselves as much on our discretion as we do on our lack of amenities.
LYDECKER (to Madame X): You got a real set of brass ones.
MAX: Is this some kind of new torture thing? Lock people up in a cheap motel and babble at them until they crack?
MAX: Got a bad feeling you were going to tell me . . . you were my . . .
LYDECKER: Father? I would never presume to pollute the gene pool.
MAX: I can’t tell you what a relief that is for me. I mean what a cliché that’d be. Huh?