Scott Evil: I just think, like, he hates me. I really think he wants to kill me.
Therapist: He doesn’t really want to kill you. Sometimes we just say that.
Dr. Evil: No actually the boy is quite astute. I really am trying to kill him, but so far unsuccessfully. He’s quite wily like his old man.

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More from Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery

Austin Powers: As long as people are still having promiscuous sex with many anonymous partners while at the same time experimenting with mind-expanding drugs in a consequence-free environment, I’ll be sound as a pound!

Dr. Evil: My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a 15 year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims, like he invented the question mark. Sometimes, he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy – the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring, we’d make meat helmets. When I was insolent, I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds. Pretty standard, really.

Mustafa: You shot me! You shot me right in the arm and it really hurts!

Austin Powers: There are only two things in this world that scare me and one is nuclear war.
Basil: What’s the other?
Austin Powers: Huh?
Basil: What’s the other thing that scares you?
Austin Powers: Carnies. Circus folk. Nomads, you know. Smell like cabbage. Small hands.

Basil Exposition: The Cold War’s over, Austin.
Austin Powers: Well, finally those capitalist pigs will pay for their crimes, eh? Eh, comrades? Eh?