TRAVIS BICKLE SPEAKS: QUOTES FROM TAXI DRIVER
TAXI DRIVER QUOTES
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One of these days I gotta get myself organizized
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Personnel Officer: (phone rings loudly) Harry, answer that.
Personnel Officer: So whaddya want to hack for, Bickle?
Travis Bickle: I can’t sleep nights.
Personnel Officer: There’s porno theaters for that.
Travis Bickle: Yeah, I know, I tried that.
Personnel Officer: So now what do you do?
Travis Bickle: I ride around most nights – subways, buses – but you know, if I’m gonna do that I might as well get paid for it.
Personnel Officer: So what is it? Do you need a second job? Are you moonlighting?
Travis Bickle: I… I just want to work long hours. What’s moonlighting?
Personnel Officer: Wanna work uptown nights? South Bronx? Harlem?
Travis Bickle: I’ll work anytime, anywhere.
Personnel Officer: Will you work Jewish holidays?
Travis Bickle: Anytime, anywhere.
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>Travis Bickle: You’re a young girl, you should be at home. You should be dressed up, going out with boys, going to school, you know, that kind of stuff.
>Travis Bickle: Shit… I’m waiting for the sun to shine.
>Travis Bickle: Thank God for the rain to wash the trash off the sidewalk.
>Travis Bickle: The idea had been growing in my brain for some time: TRUE force. All the king’s men cannot put it back together again.
>Travis Bickle: You’re only as healthy as you feel.
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Travis Bickle: One of these days I gotta get myself organizized.
Betsy: Organizized? Dont you mean organized?
Travis Bickle: No, organizized. It’s a joke.
Betsy: Oh, like those signs that says, “Thimk”.
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Sport: See ya later, copper!
Travis Bickle: I’m no cop, man.
Sport: Well, if you are, than it’s entrapment already.
Travis Bickle: I think someone should just take this city and just… just flush it down the fuckin’ toilet.
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>Travis Bickle: The days go on and on… they don’t end. All my life needed was a sense of someplace to go. I don’t believe that one should devote his life to morbid self-attention, I believe that one should become a person like other people.
>Travis Bickle: June twenty-ninth. I gotta get in shape. Too much sitting has ruined my body. Too much abuse has gone on for too long. From now on there will be 50 pushups each morning, 50 pullups. There will be no more pills, no more bad food, no more destroyers of my body. From now on will be total organization. Every muscle must be tight.
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Personnel Officer: How’s your driving record? Clean?
Travis Bickle: It’s clean, real clean. Like my conscience.
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>Travis Bickle: All the animals come out at night – whores, skunk pussies, buggers, queens, fairies, dopers, junkies, sick, venal. Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets.
>Wizard: You get a job. You become the job.
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>Travis Bickle: Listen, you fuckers, you screwheads. Here is a man who would not take it anymore. A man who stood up against the scum, the cunts, the dogs, the filth, the shit. Here is a man who stood up.
>Passenger: Have you ever seen what a .44 Magnum will do to a woman’s pussy? Now that you should see. What a .44 Magnum will do to a woman’s pussy that you should see?
>Passenger: I’m gonna kill her with a .44 Magnum.
>Travis Bickle: Now I see this clearly. My whole life is pointed in one direction. There never has been a choice for me.
>Travis Bickle: I got some bad ideas in my head.
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>Travis Bickle: Huh! Huh? Faster than you, fucking scum. Saw you coming you fucking… shitheel. I’m standing here; you make the move. You make the move. It’s your move… Don’t try it you fuck. You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to me? Then who the hell else are you talking… you talking to me? Well I’m the only one here. Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? Oh yeah? Huh? OK.
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>Betsy: Taking me to a place like this is about as exciting as saying to me “Let’s fuck.”
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>Travis Bickle: Loneliness has followed me my whole life, everywhere. In bars, in cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere. There’s no escape. I’m God’s lonely man.
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>Travis Bickle: Let me tell you something. You’re in a hell, and you’re gonna die in a hell, just like the rest of ‘em!
>Travis Bickle: You got a .44 magnum?
>Travis Bickle: How’s everything in the pimp business?
>Travis Bickle: I realize now how much she’s just like the others, cold and distant, and many people are like that, women for sure, they’re like a union.
>Travis Bickle: Each night when I return the cab to the garage, I have to clean the cum off the back seat. Some nights, I clean off the blood.
>Travis Bickle: Twelve hours of work and I still can’t sleep. Damn. Days go on and on. They don’t end.
>Travis Bickle: I first saw her at Palantine Campaign headquarters at 63rd and Broadway. She was wearing a white dress. She appeared like an angel. Out of this filthy mess, she is alone. They… cannot… touch… her.
>Travis Bickle: I’ll tell you why. I think you’re a lonely person. I drive by this place a lot and I see you here. I see a lot of people around you. And I see all these phones and all this stuff on your desk. It means nothing. Then when I came inside and I met you, I saw in your eyes and I saw the way you carried yourself that you’re not a happy person. And I think you need something. And if you want to call it a friend, you can call it a friend.
Betsy: Are you gonna be my friend?
Travis Bickle: Yeah.
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Betsy: You know what you remind me of?
Travis Bickle: What?
Betsy: That song by Kris Kristofferson.
Travis Bickle: Who’s that?
Betsy: A songwriter. ‘He’s a prophet… he’s a prophet and a pusher, partly truth, partly fiction. A walking contradiction.’
Travis Bickle: [uneasily] You sayin’ that about me?
Betsy: Who else would I be talkin’ about?
Travis Bickle: I’m no pusher. I never have pushed.
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Iris: I don’t like what I’m doing, Sport.
Sport: Ah, baby, I don’t want you to like what you’re doing. If you like what you’re doing, then you won’t be my woman.
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Travis Bickle: [Walks up to Sport] Hey Sport.
Sport: Hey, my man. Don’t I know you?
Travis Bickle: How’s life in the pimp business?
Sport: Don’t I know you?
Travis Bickle: Don’t I know you? You know Iris?
Sport: I don’t know Iris.
Travis Bickle: You don’t know anybody named Iris?
Sport: I don’t know nobody named Iris! Iris? Come man, go back to your own fucking tribe, before you get hurt. I don’t want any trouble.
Travis Bickle: You got a gun?
Sport: Get out of here! Get the fuck out of here!
[flicks his cigarette at him and kicks him]
Travis Bickle: Suck on this!
[pulls out a revolver and shoots Sport in the stomach, then walks away]
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