The Great Race

— Holy Toledo, look at that car!
— Yes, it's quite a car.
— I never saw a car like that in my life.
— You never will again either. Give me the bomb.

— Professor, your greatest creation.
— The work of genius. The finest parts from the greatest automobiles in the world. The Hannibal Twin 8!

Mr. Frisbee, until my husband is released from Happy Acres, I am in charge here.

— Another foot.
— Another foot.
— Thirty-seven inches to go.
— Thirty-seven inches to go! At the rate we've been melting that's good for about one more week.
— You better keep it to yourself.
— Of course I'll keep it to myself! Until the water reaches my lower lip, then I'll mention it to somebody!

— Give me an assignment. If I fail, fire me.
— You're fired.

— Are you a native of Boracho?
— I ain't no native, I was born here!

Mayor of Boracho: — You're the guest of honor.
Professor Fate: — Well, I don't want to be a guest of honor.
<...>
Mayor of Boracho: — You're gonna attend the meeting tonight... or, by jumped-up Harry, you're gonna be guest of honor at a necktie party!
Maximilian Meen: — Necktie? Well, what kind of cheap present is that?

You know there's one thing wrong with living in a palace: It takes so long to get from one place to another. I live in a constant state of exhaustion. Poor Prince! One good thing, when one was young, you could play along the corridors. I used to ride my pony up and down this corridor when I was young. Then I grew up and got drunk, and fell off.

— We got to do something.
— Don't worry. Before this iceberg melts and we drown like rats, we're going to do plenty.
— Yes? What?
— We're going to starve!

— Professor!
— Yes!
— Where are you?
— Behind the rock!
— Behind which rock?
— This rock, you idiot.

— Don't make too much noise. It's a secret.
— A secret? I love secrets. What's the secret?
— What we're doing, your Highness.
— What are we doing?
— We're going to take you for a little ride.
— Good. Where are we going?
— For a little ride, your Highness.
— How nice. How interesting!