John Preston: Then I have no choice but to remand you to the Palace of Justice for processing.
Mary: Processing. You mean execution, don’t you?
John Preston: Processing.

DuPont: And you, Preston, the supposed savior of the resistance, are now its destroyer, and, along with them, you’ve given me yourself… calmly… coolly… entirely without incident.
John Preston: [Polygraph machine scribbling rapidly] No.
[Polygraph suddenly registers Preston completely in control]
Polygraph Technician: Oh… Shit.
John Preston: Not without incident.

DuPont: Be careful Preston. You’re treading on my dreams.

[last lines]
DuPont: Wait! Wait! Look at me. Look at me. I’m life. I live… I, I breathe… I feel. Now that you know it… can you really take it? Is it really worth the price?
[Preston sees a flash of Mary’s face]
John Preston: I pay it gladly.

Mary: Let me ask you something.
[Grabs his hand]
Mary: Why are you alive?
John Preston: [Breaks free] I’m alive… I live… to safeguard the continuity of this great society. To serve Libria.
Mary: It’s circular. You exist to continue your existence. What’s the point?
John Preston: What’s the point of your existence?
Mary: To feel. ‘Cause you’ve never done it, you can never know it. But it’s as vital as breath. And without it, without love, without anger, without sorrow, breath is just a clock… ticking.

Partridge: You always knew.
[begins to read from Yeats]
Partridge: “But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.” I assume you dream, Preston.

Robbie Preston: [Mutes TV] John?
John Preston: Yes?
Robbie Preston: I saw Robbie Taylor crying today. He didn’t know, but I saw. Do you think I should report him?
John Preston: Unquestionably.

Brandt: I’m not feeling! He is the one who’s feeling!

DuPont: You really should learn to knock.

John Preston: I’ll do what I can to see they go easy on you.
Partridge: We both know they never “go easy”.
John Preston: Then, I’m sorry.
Partridge: No, you’re not. You don’t even know the meaning. Its just a vestigial word for a feeling you’ve never felt.

John Preston: There’s no war. No murder.
Partridge: What is it you think we do?
John Preston: No. You’ve been with me, you’ve seen how it can be – the jealousy, rage.
Partridge: A heavy cost. I pay it gladly.
[Reaches for his gun]

Father: Mankind united with infinitely greater purpose in pursuit of war than he ever did in pursuit of peace.

DuPont: The gun katas. Through analysis of thousands of recorded gunfights, the Cleric has determined that the geometric distribution of antagonists in any gun battle is a statistically predictable element. The gun kata treats the gun as a total weapon, each fluid position representing a maximum kill zone, inflicting maximum damage on the maximum number of opponents while keeping the defender clear of the statistically traditional trajectories of return fire. By the rote mastery of this art, your firing efficiency will rise by no less than 120%. The difference of a 63% increase to lethal proficiency makes the master of the gun katas an adversary not to be taken lightly.

[trying to convince a group of rebels that he’s letting them escape]
John Preston: Go. Go, damn you!
[sees another rebel being shot and knows this group will be next]
John Preston: Get out of here, God damn it! If you don’t, you’re dead!
Rebel: Don’t do it. He’ll shoot us in the back.
John Preston: If I was gonna shoot you, I’d shoot you in the face. Now go.

Brandt: Always practicing, Cleric. Maybe that’s why you’re the best.
John Preston: Maybe I’m just better.

Polygraph Technician: This is a control question, a riddle really. How would you say would be the easiest way to take a weapon away from a Grammaton Cleric?
Brandt: [speaks into Preston’s ear] You ask him for it.

Mary: You can’t do this! You cannot do this!
John Preston: Tetragrammaton. There’s nothing we can’t do.