Mrs Doubtfire Quotes

“There are all sorts of different families, Katie. Some families have one mommy, some families have one daddy, or two families. And some children live with their uncle or aunt. Some live with their grandparents, and some children live with foster parents. And some live in separate homes, in separate neighborhoods, in different areas of the country - and they may not see each other for days, or weeks, months... even years at a time. But if there's love, dear... those are the ties that bind, and you'll have a family in your heart, forever.”
― Anne Fine, Madame Doubtfire

“To pass the time, he hunted through the apartment, patting surfaces down with his palms in an attempt to find computers, extra phones, more goddamn guns. He’d just returned to the second bedroom when something ricocheted off the window.
Wrath unholstered his forty again and back-flatted it on the wall next to the window. With his hand, he sprang the lock and pushed the sheet of glass open a crack.
The cop’s Boston accent was about as subtle as a loudspeaker. “Yo, Rapunzel, you going to let down your frickin’ hair, there?”
“Shh, you wanna wake the neighbors?”
“Like they can hear anything over that TV? Hey, this is the bat epi…”
Wrath left Butch to talk to himself, putting his gun back on his hip, pushing the window wide, then heading for the closet.
The only warning he gave the cop as he winged the first two-hundred-pound crate out of the building was, “Brace yourself, Effie.”
“Jesus Ch—” A grunt cut off the swearing.
Wrath poked his head out of the window and whispered, “You’re supposed to be a good Catholic. Isn’t that blasphemy?”
Butch’s tone was like someone had pissed out a fire on his bed. “You just threw half a car at me with nothing but a quote from Mrs. fucking Doubtfire.”
“Put on your big-girl pants and deal.”
As the cop cursed his way over to the Escalade, which he’d managed to park under some pine trees, Wrath headed back to the closet.
When Butch returned, Wrath heaved again. “Two more.”
There was another grunt and a rattle. “Fuck me.”
“Not on your life.”
“Fine. Fuck you.”

-Butch & Wrath”
― J.R. Ward, Lover Avenged

“You can’t poke Mrs. Claus in the boob.”
“Why not? You poked me in the stomach.”
“I poked a pillow.”
“So did I.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Unless you’ve somehow turned into Dolly Parton in the last ten minutes.”
“You look more like Mrs. Doubtfire than Mrs. Claus.”
― Kortney Keisel, The Holiday Stand-In