"Condoms don’t work."
"Your first time is supposed to hurt."
"It’s not really sex if there’s no penetration."
"Girls don’t masturbate."
I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you’re always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call. But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.
The (in)famous Romercutio kiss from the italian version of the musical
Wow. I will sail that ship.
I see your Romeo/Mercutio and raise you Oberon/Puck (from the Globe production)
Can we just—
Mephistopheles and Faustus in the Globe production of Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus
let’s not forget coriolanus and aufidius:
Apparently my director went to see a production of West Side Story a few years ago, and the guy playing Chino forgot his gun before coming out for his final scene. Once it got to the big scene where he is supposed to shoot Tony, he screeched “Poison Boots” and kicked the actor playing Tony until he went down. The girl playing Maria then had to jerk the shoe off of Chino’s foot, and had to do the gunshot scene asking “How many kicks Chino? How many kicks, and one kick left for me”.