Dominic Toretto: Ask any driver — any real driver — it doesn’t matter if one wins by an inch or a mile. Winning is winning.
[Later that night, thoughtfully, to himself next to a fireplace] This is how they tried to win: from inside sound-proof rooms, through smoked glass, using machines at arm’s length. This is how they lost. So it’s over, and that was all.
Mr. Nobody: The driver’s seat is a dangerous place from which to view the world.
Brian O’Conner [pushing away a croissant with a sense of futility before walking away, both in an immediate sense and a more definitive sense]: So is a desk.
Dominic Toretto: Your mistake was thinking yourself still in America. You are, in fact, quite a long way from home. This is Brazil. This isn’t an assignment for Enforcement. This isn’t cops and robbers and shooting yourself in the foot. This is geopolitics, Rex. I always say South America’s the only place where you cut a gentleman his suit one week and see his statue wearing it the next.
Han Lue: It’s trust and character I need around me. Who you choose to be around you lets you know who you are. By repetition, each lie becomes an irreversible fact upon which other lies are constructed. The more identities a man has, the more they express the person they conceal.
Dominic Toretto: Coming home from very lonely places, all of us go a little mad: whether from great personal success, or just an all-night drive, we are the sole survivors of a world no one else has ever seen. One last ride, then.
Letty: Why didn’t you tell me we were married?
Dominic Toretto: There’s no such thing as a decision. There never was. There’s whether you’ve had a good day or a bad day, there's going forward because there’s nothing behind and running because if you stand still any longer you'll fall over. There’s movement or there’s stagnation. There’s the past that drives you and the regimental chaplain who preaches that only the obedient are free and the women who say you have no feelings, but they can’t live without you. What woman has ever stopped by a want of information? She feels, and she despises a man for not acting in accordance with her feelings.
[Dom and Brian enter the Jordanian Prince’s private vault and see the W Motors Lykan HyperSport.]
Brian O’Conner: Do you realize what this is? Lykan HyperSport. $3.4 million. 0-60 in less than 3 seconds. There are perhaps seven of these in the world. He keeps it locked up in a vault.
Dominic Toretto: Typical of that strata of mankind which conducts its human relationships according to the principle of challenge and response — where there is softness, he advances; where he finds resistance, he retreats. Having himself no particular opinions or tastes he relies upon whatever conforms with those of his companions. He is as ready to drink tea at Fortnum’s as beer at the Prospect of Whitby; he might listen to military music in St. James’s Park or jazz in Compton Street cellar. To me, this observably passive role is repellent. It brings out the bully in me.
Brian O’Connor: Now I really want to punch him in the face.
Dominic Toretto: The ethics of violence require that it is now the turn of the others — and there are still three of them.
Hobbs: I wished I could make them throw everything over for a flawed and impossible passion, only to see the objective it turn against them, proving there is no reward for love except the experience of loving and nothing to be learned by it except humility.
Deckard Shaw: You sought to interfere with their family. One should never interfere with a man’s family.
Hobbs: Toretto said much the same thing at the time.
Letty: It’s the oldest question of all, Dom. Who can drive the drivers?
Brian O’Conner: [Observes Deckard Shaw eating] I hope you’re enjoying your last meal.
Deckard Shaw: This is it? This is all you want? A dozen men?
Sheppard: I think you’ll find it’s more than enough.
Dominic Toretto: I’m ready to meet my maker. Are you?
Deckard Shaw: What were you expecting, Toretto? To catch me off guard? Standing here, waving a white flag? Have you ever heard the saying: ‘The enemy of my enemy…is my friend?’
Dominic Toretto: I don’t have friends. I’ve got family.
Deckard Shaw: Do you know what family is? I’ll tell you: it is whatever you can still betray.
Merc Tech: We lost the God’s Eye.
Jakande: Sometimes we have to do a thing in order to find out the reason for it. Sometimes our actions are questions, not answers.
Deckard Shaw: They say if you want to glimpse the future, just look behind you. I used to think that was bollocks. Now I realize you can’t outrun the past. When we were kids, you’d start fights with the toughest bastards in the yard. But I was the one who had to step in and finish them. You’d steal from the corner shop, but it was me who’d brave the old man’s belt. I’d hope you’d outgrown it, that playing the gangster made you harder, smarter, better. But deep down, I guess I always knew you’d end up like this, despite everything I did to teach you. Still, you’re my flesh and blood. So you remain my cross to bear. Look...we’re getting to be old men, and we’ve spent our lives looking for the weaknesses in one another’s systems. I can see through Eastern values just as you can see through our Western ones. Both of us, I am sure, have experienced ad nauseam the technical satisfactions of this wretched war. But now your own side is going to shoot you. Don’t you think it’s time to recognise that there is as little worth on your side as there is on mine?
Roman: [An armed UAV is in pursuit of the car carrying Tej, Roman and Ramsey] First a tank, then a plane…now we got a spaceship?
Tej: And all right, it’s Merrie bloody England, it’s Laura bloody Ashley, it’s ale and pasties and yo-ho for Cornwall, and tomorrow morning all these nice, sweet people will be back at each other’s throats, screwing each other’s wives and doing all the stuff the rest of the world does. But right now it’s their National Day, and who’s an ex-diplomat of all people to complain if the wrapping is prettier than what’s inside?
Roman: Why did Tej do it, Dom? In the beginning was the deed. Not the motive, least of all the word. It was his own choice. It was his own life. No one forced him. Anywhere along the line, or right at the start of it, he could have yelled no and surprised himself. He never did. That’s what we’re after. Not the substance, but the motive. Why? If we trust the motive, we trust the man. Then we trust his material. In the beginning was not the word, not the deed, not the silly serpent, not the key in the ignition. In the beginning was why?
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