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Knox: She's gonna hate me. The Danburrys will hate me. My parents will kill me. All right, goddamn it. You're right. "Carpe diem." Even if it kills me.
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Charlie: Guys, I have an announcement to make. In keeping with the spirit of passionate experimentation of the Dead Poets, I'm giving up the name Charlie Dalton. From now on, call me Nuwanda.
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Charlie: Welton Academy. Hello. Yes, he is. Just a moment. Mr. Nolan, it's for you. It's God. He says we should have girls at Welton.
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Pitts: Your father collects pipes? Oh, that really interesting.
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Student in class: [reading his poem] "A cat sat on a mat."
John Keating: Congratulations. You may have just written the first poem to get a negative score on the Pritchard scale.
John Keating: Congratulations. You may have just written the first poem to get a negative score on the Pritchard scale.
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Gloria: Don't you guys miss having girls around here?
Meeks, Pitts: [yell in unison] Yeah!
Meeks, Pitts: [yell in unison] Yeah!
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Todd: Mr. Keating! They made everybody sign it.
Mr. Nolan: Quiet, Mr. Anderson.
Todd: You gotta believe me. It's true.
Keating: I do believe you, Todd.
Mr. Nolan: Leave, Mr. Keating.
Todd: But it wasn't his fault!
Mr. Nolan: Sit down, Mr. Anderson! One more outburst from you or anyone else, and you're out of this school! Leave, Mr. Keating.
Mr. Nolan: I said leave, Mr. Keating.
[Todd stands on his desk]
Todd: O Captain! My Captain!
Mr. Nolan: Sit down, Mr. Anderson! Do you hear me? Sit down! Sit down! This is your final warning, Anderson. How dare you! Do you hear me?
[Knox stands on his desk and other students slowly start to follow]
Knox: O Captain! My Captain!
Mr. Nolan: Mr. Overstreet, I warn you! Sit down! Sit down! Sit down. All of you. I want you seated. Sit down. Leave, Mr. Keating. All of you, down. I want you seated. Do you hear me? Sit down!
Keating: Thank you, boys. Thank you.
Mr. Nolan: Quiet, Mr. Anderson.
Todd: You gotta believe me. It's true.
Keating: I do believe you, Todd.
Mr. Nolan: Leave, Mr. Keating.
Todd: But it wasn't his fault!
Mr. Nolan: Sit down, Mr. Anderson! One more outburst from you or anyone else, and you're out of this school! Leave, Mr. Keating.
Mr. Nolan: I said leave, Mr. Keating.
[Todd stands on his desk]
Todd: O Captain! My Captain!
Mr. Nolan: Sit down, Mr. Anderson! Do you hear me? Sit down! Sit down! This is your final warning, Anderson. How dare you! Do you hear me?
[Knox stands on his desk and other students slowly start to follow]
Knox: O Captain! My Captain!
Mr. Nolan: Mr. Overstreet, I warn you! Sit down! Sit down! Sit down. All of you. I want you seated. Sit down. Leave, Mr. Keating. All of you, down. I want you seated. Do you hear me? Sit down!
Keating: Thank you, boys. Thank you.
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Charlie: Hey, how'd it go? Did you read it to her?
Knox: Yeah.
Pitts: What'd she say?
Knox: Nothing.
Charlie: Nothing. What do you mean, nothing?
Knox: Nothing. But I did it.
Knox: Yeah.
Pitts: What'd she say?
Knox: Nothing.
Charlie: Nothing. What do you mean, nothing?
Knox: Nothing. But I did it.
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[Todd's present is the same as last year, a desk set he does not even like.]
Neil: I mean, if I was ever going to buy a desk set... twice! I would probably buy this one, both times! In fact, its shape is rather aerodynamic isn't it? You can feel it. This desk set wants to fly!
[Neil hands the desk set to Todd]
Neil: Todd? The world's first un-manned flying desk set!
[Todd throws it off the roof]
Neil: Oh my! Well, I wouldn't worry, you'll get another one next year.
Neil: I mean, if I was ever going to buy a desk set... twice! I would probably buy this one, both times! In fact, its shape is rather aerodynamic isn't it? You can feel it. This desk set wants to fly!
[Neil hands the desk set to Todd]
Neil: Todd? The world's first un-manned flying desk set!
[Todd throws it off the roof]
Neil: Oh my! Well, I wouldn't worry, you'll get another one next year.
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Mr. Nolan: Gentlemen, turn to page 21 of the introduction. Mr. Cameron, read aloud the excellent essay by Dr. Pritchard on "Understanding Poetry."
Cameron: That page has been ripped out, sir.
Mr. Nolan: Well, borrow somebody else's book.
Cameron: They're all ripped out, sir.
Mr. Nolan: What do you mean, they're all ripped out?
Cameron: That page has been ripped out, sir.
Mr. Nolan: Well, borrow somebody else's book.
Cameron: They're all ripped out, sir.
Mr. Nolan: What do you mean, they're all ripped out?
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John Keating: I thought the purpose of education was to learn to think for yourself.
Nolan: At these boys age? Not on your life!
Nolan: At these boys age? Not on your life!
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Keating: You don't have to perform. Just make it for yourself. Mr. Dalton? Will you be joining us?
Charlie: Exercising the right not to walk.
Keating: Thank you, Mr. Dalton. You just illustrated the point. Swim against the stream.
Charlie: Exercising the right not to walk.
Keating: Thank you, Mr. Dalton. You just illustrated the point. Swim against the stream.
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John Keating: Why do we need language?
Neil: To communicate...
John Keating: Nooo! To woo women!
Neil: To communicate...
John Keating: Nooo! To woo women!
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Keating: Seize the day. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. Why does the writer use these lines?
Charlie: Because he's in a hurry.
Keating: No, ding! Thank you for playing anyway. Because we are food for worms lads. Because, believe it or not, each and every one of us in this room is one day going to stop breathing, turn cold, and die.
Charlie: Because he's in a hurry.
Keating: No, ding! Thank you for playing anyway. Because we are food for worms lads. Because, believe it or not, each and every one of us in this room is one day going to stop breathing, turn cold, and die.
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Hager: That wouldn't be a radio in your lap, would it Mr. Pitts?
Pitts: No sir. Science experiment, radar.
Pitts: No sir. Science experiment, radar.
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McAllister: You take a big risk by encouraging them to be artists John. When they realize they're not Rembrandts, Shakespeares or Mozarts, they'll hate you for it.
Keating: We're not talking artists George, we're talking free thinkers.
McAllister: Free thinkers at seventeen?
Keating: Funny, I never pegged you as a cynic.
McAllister: Not a cynic, a realist. Show me the heart unfettered by foolish dreams, and I'll show you a happy man.
Keating: But only in their dreams can man be truly free. 'Twas always thus, and always thus will be.
McAllister: Tennyson?
Keating: No, Keating.
Keating: We're not talking artists George, we're talking free thinkers.
McAllister: Free thinkers at seventeen?
Keating: Funny, I never pegged you as a cynic.
McAllister: Not a cynic, a realist. Show me the heart unfettered by foolish dreams, and I'll show you a happy man.
Keating: But only in their dreams can man be truly free. 'Twas always thus, and always thus will be.
McAllister: Tennyson?
Keating: No, Keating.
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Charlie: Wait a minute, who gave us half a roll?
Pitts: I'm eating the other half.
Charlie: Come on.
Pitts: You want me to put it back?
Pitts: I'm eating the other half.
Charlie: Come on.
Pitts: You want me to put it back?
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Keating: Why do I stand up here? Anybody?
Charlie: To feel taller.
Keating: No! Thank you for playing, Mr. Dalton. I stand upon my desk to remind yourself that we must constantly look at things in a different way.
Charlie: To feel taller.
Keating: No! Thank you for playing, Mr. Dalton. I stand upon my desk to remind yourself that we must constantly look at things in a different way.
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Pitts: "Oh to struggle against great odds. To meet enemies undaunted."
Keating: Sounds to me like you're daunted. Say it again like you're undaunted.
Pitts: “Oh to struggle against great odds. To meet enemies undaunted."
Keating: Now go on.
Keating: Sounds to me like you're daunted. Say it again like you're undaunted.
Pitts: “Oh to struggle against great odds. To meet enemies undaunted."
Keating: Now go on.
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Boy #1: "To be a sailor of the world, bound for all ports."
Keating: Next. Louder!
Boy #2: "Oh, I live to be the ruler of life, not a slave."
Boy #3: “To mount the scaffolds. To advance to the muzzle of guns with perfect nonchalance."
Keating: Next. Louder!
Boy #2: "Oh, I live to be the ruler of life, not a slave."
Boy #3: “To mount the scaffolds. To advance to the muzzle of guns with perfect nonchalance."
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Keating: Come on, Meeks! Listen to the music.
Meeks: "To dance, clap hands, exalt, shout, skip, roll on, float on."
Keating: Yes!
Meeks: "To dance, clap hands, exalt, shout, skip, roll on, float on."
Keating: Yes!
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Hopkins: [without energy] "Oh, to have life henceforth the poem of new joys."
Keating: Oh! Boo! Come on, Charlie, let it fill your soul!
Charlie: [lifts his arms, looking up and yells] “To indeed be a god!"
Keating: Oh! Boo! Come on, Charlie, let it fill your soul!
Charlie: [lifts his arms, looking up and yells] “To indeed be a god!"
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Keating: Mr. Anderson, I see you sitting there in agony. Come on, Todd, step up. Let's put you out of your misery.
Todd: I, I didn't do it. I didn't write a poem.
Keating: Mr. Anderson thinks that everything inside of him is worthless and embarrassing. Isn't that right, Todd? Isn't that your worst fear? Well, I think you're wrong. I think you have something inside of you that is worth a great deal. [writes "I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world." W. W. on the chalkboard] Uncle Walt again. Now, for those of you who don't know, a yawp is a loud cry or yell. Now, Todd, I would like you to give us a demonstration of a barbaric "yawp." Come on. You can't yawp sitting down. Let's go. Come on. Up. You gotta get in "yawping" stance.
Todd: A yawp?
Keating: No, not just a yawp. A barbaric yawp.
Todd: [quietly] Yawp.
Keating: Come on, louder.
Todd: [quietly] Yawp.
Keating: No, that's a mouse. Come on. Louder.
Todd: Yawp.
Keating: Oh, good God, boy. Yell like a man!
Todd: [shouting] Yawp!
Keating: There it is. You see, you have a barbarian in you, after all. Now, you don't get away that easy. The picture of Uncle Walt up there. What does he remind you of? [Tod hesitates] Don't think. Answer. Go on.
Todd: A m-m-madman.
Keating: What kind of madman? [Tod hesitates again] Don't think about it. Just answer again.
Todd: A c-crazy madman.
Keating: No, you can do better than that. Free up your mind. Use your imagination. Say the first thing that pops into your head, even if it's only gibberish. Go on, go on.
Todd: Uh, uh, a sweaty-toothed madman.
Keating: Good God, boy, there's a poet in you, after all. There, close your eyes. Close your eyes. Close 'em. Now, describe what you see.
Todd: Uh, I-I close my eyes.
Keating: Yes?
Todd: Uh, and this image floats beside me.
Keating: A sweaty-toothed madman?
Todd: A sweaty-toothed madman with a stare that pounds my brain.
Keating: Oh, that's excellent. Now, give him action. Make him do something.
Todd: H-His hands reach out and choke me.
Keating: That's it. Wonderful. Wonderful.
Todd: And, and all the time he's mumbling.
Keating: What's he mumbling?
Todd: M-Mumbling, "Truth. Truth is like, like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold."
[Class laughs]
Keating: Forget them, forget them. Stay with the blanket. Tell me about that blanket.
Todd: Y-Y-Y-You push it, stretch it, it'll never be enough. You kick at it, beat it, it'll never cover any of us. From the moment we enter crying to the moment we leave dying, it will just cover your face as you wail and cry and scream.
[the class claps because of his excellent poem]
Keating: [whispering to Todd] Don't you forget this.
Todd: I, I didn't do it. I didn't write a poem.
Keating: Mr. Anderson thinks that everything inside of him is worthless and embarrassing. Isn't that right, Todd? Isn't that your worst fear? Well, I think you're wrong. I think you have something inside of you that is worth a great deal. [writes "I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world." W. W. on the chalkboard] Uncle Walt again. Now, for those of you who don't know, a yawp is a loud cry or yell. Now, Todd, I would like you to give us a demonstration of a barbaric "yawp." Come on. You can't yawp sitting down. Let's go. Come on. Up. You gotta get in "yawping" stance.
Todd: A yawp?
Keating: No, not just a yawp. A barbaric yawp.
Todd: [quietly] Yawp.
Keating: Come on, louder.
Todd: [quietly] Yawp.
Keating: No, that's a mouse. Come on. Louder.
Todd: Yawp.
Keating: Oh, good God, boy. Yell like a man!
Todd: [shouting] Yawp!
Keating: There it is. You see, you have a barbarian in you, after all. Now, you don't get away that easy. The picture of Uncle Walt up there. What does he remind you of? [Tod hesitates] Don't think. Answer. Go on.
Todd: A m-m-madman.
Keating: What kind of madman? [Tod hesitates again] Don't think about it. Just answer again.
Todd: A c-crazy madman.
Keating: No, you can do better than that. Free up your mind. Use your imagination. Say the first thing that pops into your head, even if it's only gibberish. Go on, go on.
Todd: Uh, uh, a sweaty-toothed madman.
Keating: Good God, boy, there's a poet in you, after all. There, close your eyes. Close your eyes. Close 'em. Now, describe what you see.
Todd: Uh, I-I close my eyes.
Keating: Yes?
Todd: Uh, and this image floats beside me.
Keating: A sweaty-toothed madman?
Todd: A sweaty-toothed madman with a stare that pounds my brain.
Keating: Oh, that's excellent. Now, give him action. Make him do something.
Todd: H-His hands reach out and choke me.
Keating: That's it. Wonderful. Wonderful.
Todd: And, and all the time he's mumbling.
Keating: What's he mumbling?
Todd: M-Mumbling, "Truth. Truth is like, like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold."
[Class laughs]
Keating: Forget them, forget them. Stay with the blanket. Tell me about that blanket.
Todd: Y-Y-Y-You push it, stretch it, it'll never be enough. You kick at it, beat it, it'll never cover any of us. From the moment we enter crying to the moment we leave dying, it will just cover your face as you wail and cry and scream.
[the class claps because of his excellent poem]
Keating: [whispering to Todd] Don't you forget this.
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Neil: You kicked out?
Charlie: No.
Neil: What happened?
Charlie: I'm to apologize to the school, turn everyone in, and all will be forgiven.
Neil: What are you gunna do? ... Charlie?
Charlie: DAMN IT NEIL... the name's Nuwanda...
Charlie: No.
Neil: What happened?
Charlie: I'm to apologize to the school, turn everyone in, and all will be forgiven.
Neil: What are you gunna do? ... Charlie?
Charlie: DAMN IT NEIL... the name's Nuwanda...