Christopher Lambert - Connor MacLeod / Russell Nash

He had not applauded, he had remained seated, but he had looked at her steadily. From the depths of eternity he had looked at her and Rosalind became immortal. If I could believe him, she thought, if only I could believe him!

[to Connor, about his son, John] It seems while I've been the master of illusion, you have been the master of deception. I always thought Immortals couldn't have children. What was it like convincing all those women you loved, that they were the ones unable to have a child?

I don't rap for dead presidents, I'd rather see the president dead

As a theory of [satyagraha] which must of necessity grow and expand because it carries within itself the immortal function of life. The fire of satyagrha had been kindled in the temple or ashrama where Mahatma Gandhi is the high priest or guru.

He walks in the street, a picture of modesty in his felt hat and his gabardine suit, and all the while he's thinking, "I'm immortal." The world is his, time is his, and I'm nothing but an insect.

It's terrible when the old have to bury the young. But it is more terrible when neither the old nor the young are there to bury each other.

Ashes to Ashes

I wanted people to obey me! To worship my immortal beauty! To love me forever and ever! This is what everyone wants in Ivywood! That's why we all want to be famous! Fame doesn't last. But the people you brainwash will be your faithful slaves until a special cure is applied.

Chè 'n parte troppo cupa, e troppo interna
Il pensier de' mortali occulto giace.

Metaphysics has as the proper object of its enquiries three ideas only: God, freedom, and immortality.

[W]hatever you are is never enough; you must find a way to accept something, however small, from the other to make you whole and to save you from the mortal sin of righteousness and extremism. (p. 154)

The development of intelligence and physical power is equally necessary in animals and men for their purposes of living; but what is unique in man is the development of his consciousness which gradually deepens and widens the realization of his immortal being, the perfect, the eternal.

Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

The man who dies thus rich dies disgraced.

This time it is real — all must die, and where could mountaineer find a more glorious death!