- Ned Roche: [voice over] We all have one thing we're ashamed of, the memory of one moment so embarrassing we don't think we'll ever get over it, a moment that still awakens us at four AM, sweating. My terrible moment happened because I was afraid. I was afraid because I lost the only true friend I'd ever known. People do bad things out of fear.
- Ned Roche: [voice over] The Berlin Wall was built overnight. The world woke up the morning after and there it was. Now I'm no communist, but there's a lot to be said for acting decisively.
- Ned Roche: [voice over] Did you know lizards can regrow their tails? That's how it was in our school with English teachers. One dies, another grows in his place. No big deal.
- Dan Sherry: In the meantime, we're going to be reading "Lord of the Flies" by Golding, a cautionary tale about giving power to an impressionable mass of fragrant and unkempt urchins - not that that's ever gonna happen in my class.
- Dan Sherry: [first day in his new class] Darren Finnegan! Did you make that absurd noise?
- [silence from everyone]
- Dan Sherry: Age: sixteen. Birthday: June. Shoe size: eight and a half. Fan of Formula One car racing. Allergic to milk, and therefore all dairy. Father: a management consultant. Mother: stay at home mom. Uh, bed-wetter, I imagine, and a coward for sure. Congratulations, Mr. Finnegan, you are today's winner of the witless tool competition. Be gone!
- Pascal O'Keeffe: Your mind is shot, right? You're... you're all over the place. I understand that.
- Conor Masters: [confidently] How is it shot?
- Pascal O'Keeffe: Well... at this point... Conor, we all heard about... the thing.
- Conor Masters: [smirking] The thing?
- Pascal O'Keeffe: The thing.
- Conor Masters: The thing.
- Pascal O'Keeffe: [angrily] The t'ing! The t'ing! The t'ing!
- [Ned starts playing guitar, one chord only, repeatedly]
- Dan Sherry: Okay, so that's D.
- Ned Roche: That's D.
- [Ned plays D again after a pause]
- Dan Sherry: Is D your only...
- Ned Roche: D is my only chord, yeah!
- Conor Masters: Today that was pretty cool. I liked the song.
- Ned Roche: Could you go straight to Hell, please?
- [Conor's kicks go poorly]
- Pascal O'Keeffe: [sighs] Conor, sport... kicking... takes a quiet mind. You need to have nothing going on in there. Okay? So, what's eating you?
- Conor Masters: Sir... sometimes I just... feel... like a robot...
- Pascal O'Keeffe: Mm.
- Conor Masters: ...doing this again and again. Maybe... there's a little more to life than...
- [Pascal gives an incredulous look and Conor immediately shuts down]
- Pascal O'Keeffe: You have a rare gift, and you need to use it. And recently I've noticed you hanging around with different people - which is fine, I suppose, whatever - but here's the thing, son: You lie down with dogs, you get fleas. Have you identified the fleas? Don't complicate this, son.
- Pascal O'Keeffe: [identifying Conor, the rugby ball and the goal posts] There's you, and that... and those. Now, come on.
- [Conor's kick get even worse]
- Pascal O'Keeffe: You afraid to be hit? Go sign up for the school opera. I'm sure they're short a few tavern wenches.
- Weasel: Conor, I promised my father on his deathbed that I would do everything in my power to win that cup. I-I'm not the only one that's noticing you're spending a lot of time with the wrong kind of people. What we're gonna do is - you're gonna pick your company a little bit better. You're gonna focus on the semi-final, and we'll let the rumors from your old school be... rumors from your old school.
- Pascal O'Keeffe: [on their star player's absence] And I don't know if you were aware of the rumors swirling around, but it transpires that he was dealing with serious personal issues. Well, he's missing today, and I want to tell you this: We are way better off without him. I mean, we all have personal issues, but look around ya. Anyone who can't be trusted to put those issues to one side can't be part of a team. Yeah? We all have shit that we're goin' through, you know, but do you run? No. You stay. You stay and you deal with your shit by standing in a field, blowing a whistle in the fucking rain.