Oh my god...
Coach Finstock: "There are three rules that I live by — never get less than twelve hours sleep, never play cards with a guy who has the same first name as a city, and never get involved with a woman with a tattoo of a dagger on her body. Now you stick to that, and everything else is cream cheese."
[Travis is trying on his guns in the mirror]
Travis Bickle: "Huh? Huh?"
Travis Bickle: "Faster than you, fucking son of a... saw you coming you fucking... shitheel."
Travis Bickle: "I'm standing here; you make the move. You make the move. It's your move..."
Travis Bickle: "Don't try it you fuck."
Travis Bickle: "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? OK."
Female Voice: [with a mechanical buzz over shadowy morphing orbs] "T- D, S- Z- Th, B- T- V, H- T- D- K- G, S- Z- P- B, Ba-Ba- T- T, K- Kuh- Ch, Th- V- Th, Zzz- Sss- Bzz- Ch, B-B-Buh- V-V-Vuh, G-G-Guh D-D-Duh."
Female Voice: [now over a shiny white torus, slowly morphing] "B-B-Buh- B-B-Buh, B-B-Beh, B-B-Beh, Bah, N-N-Nuh- N-N-Nuh, N-N-Nuh- No. N-N-Nuh, F- Feel- Field, Fill- Filled- Filts, Foil- Failed- Fell, Felds- Pill- Pills, Pall- Nall."
Female Voice: [now over a watery chestnut-brown eye] "Foal- Foals, Fold- Fold, Pool- Pool, Sell- Se..."