Boy, those Germans have a word for everything!

Ah, beer, my one weakness. My Achille's heel, if you will.

Two friends, two bodies with one soul inspired.

I should rather labor as another's serf, in the home of a man without fortune, one whose livelihood was meager, than rule over all the departed dead.

I'm like that guy who single-handedly built the rocket and flew to the moon. What was his name? Apollo Creed?

Why have you come to me here, dear heart, with all these instructions? I promise you I will do everything just as you ask. But come closer. Let us give in to grief, however briefly, in each other's arms.

By their own follies they perished, the fools.