Head

Micky Dolenz:
We told you a hundred times, good officer, sir. We last saw him inside the john... er... comfort room.

Peter:
Where there is clarity, there is no choice. And where there is choice, there is misery. But then, why should I speak, since I know nothing?

Swami:
We were speaking of belief; beliefs and conditioning. All belief possibly could be said to be the result of *some* conditioning. Thus, the study of history is simply the study of one belief system deposing another, and so on and so on and so on... A psychologically tested belief of our time is that the central nervous system, which feeds its impulses directly to the brain, conscious and subconscious, is unable to discern between the real, and the vividly imagined experience. If there is a difference, and most of us believe there is -am I being clear? For to examine these concepts requires tremendous energy and discipline. To experience the now, without preconception or beliefs, to allow the unknown to occur and to occur, requires clarity. And where there is clarity there is no choice. And where there is choice, there is misery. And why should anyone listen to me? Why should I speak, since I know nothing?

Mike:
Okay. You think they call us plastic now, babe, but wait 'til I get through telling them how we do it.

Peter Tork:
Let me tell you one thing son. Nobody ever lends money to a man with a sense of humor.

The Critic:
That song was pretty white.

Davy Jones:
So am I; what can I tell you?

Lord High'N'Low:
"Boys, don't never, but never, make fun of no cripple!"

Inspector Shrink:
The tragedy of *your* time, my young friends, is that you may get exactly what you want.

Micky Dolenz:
C'mon let's get outta this nightclub!

Mrs Ace:
But what about the food?

Mike:
Have it cleaned and burned!

Lord High'N'Low:
Hey! Nobody walks out on me! Not even myself!

Davy:
Wait! Don't move! I wanna forget you just as you are!

Davy:
Psst! Hey, c'mere. Now this is serious. What ya say, you and me, go someplace where we wont bump into each other again?

Peter:
MICKY! Micky! Micky! I'm the dummy, Micky. I'm always the dummy.

Micky Dolenz:
You're right, Pete. You're always the dummy. I forgot. I'm sorry. Sorry. You're always the dummy, Pete. I'm sorry, sorry...

Mrs Ace:
Well, if it isn't God's gift to the eight-year-olds.