words in movies
Phoebe: Oh, well, it doesnt have a nameoh, okay, Phoebeball! No, it doesnt have a name. Umm, okay, Monica, what is your favourite thing about trees?
Ross: Well we gotta do something, ok? Nannies like her don't grow on trees. (pause)
Monica: (smiling) It's so sweet. It really is. It has this big yard that leads down to this stream and then there's these old maple trees... (gets cut off)
Joey: And I gotta go sell some Christmas trees.
ROSS: I, I don't know, it's got all this stuff about wind and trees and there's some kind of sacred pool in it. I mean, I don't really get it but she's, she's pretty upset about it.
Joey: Well, Im pretty tired from lugging the trees around all day. Hey, Phoebe listen, you got this all wrong. Those trees were born to be Christmas trees, their fulfilling their life purpose, by, by making people happy.
Ross: I know, uh, the air, the-the trees... even though Nana's gone there's, there's something almost, uh- I dunno, almost life-aff- (Not looking where he is going he falls into an open grave)
Chandler: Its like Night of the Living Dead Christmas Trees.
[Scene: Joeys work, selling Christmas trees.]
MR. GREENE: Did you know your mother spent $1200 dollars on bansai trees. I felt like Gulliver around that place.
(They start to go into Monica and Rachels, their apartment is filled with all of the old Christmas trees from Joeys work.)
Monica: Oh, I love this street. The trees, the big front yards, the actual picket fences.
Chandler: Yes. Yes, and ah, ah, the trees are happy too, because for most of them, its the only chance to see New York.
Rachel: I dont know, something either trees or diseaseRalph mumbles a lot.
(the screen says "6 to win" and "types of trees")
Phoebe: All right, there are no questions in the happy place. Okay, just, the warm breeze, and the moonlight flowing through the trees....
JANITOR: Hmm, Lipson knows huh? Ahh, hello Mr. Opossum, enigma of the trees, upside-down denizen of the night, taunting gravity with...
Joey: I was just outside Barcelona hiking in the foothills of Mount Tibidabo. I was at the end of this path and I came to a clearing and there was a lake, very secluded. And there were tall trees all around. (Whispering) It was dead silent. Gorgeous. (Softly) And across the lake I saw a beautiful woman bathing herself but she was crying
Joey: Yeah, the ah, trees that dont fulfil their Christmas destiny are thrown in the chipper.
Joey: I-I-I don't know. Types of trees?
Phoebe: No, no, I am against innocent trees being cut down in their prime, and their, their corpses grotesquely dressed in like tinsel and twinkly lights. (to Joey) Hey, how do you sleep at night?