Mustafa Quotes in Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me (1999)

Austin: Who sent you?

Mustafa: You have to kill me.

Austin: Who sent you?

Mustafa: Kiss my ass, Powers!

Austin: Who sent you?

Mustafa: Dr. Evil.

Felicity Shagwell: [Surprised] That was easy.

Austin: That was easy.

Felicity Shagwell: Why did you tell us?

Mustafa: I can't stand to be asked the same question three times. It just irritates me.

Austin: Where's Dr. Evil hiding?

Mustafa: Why would he tell me? I'm just one of his low-level functionaries.

Austin: Where's Dr. Evil hiding?

Mustafa: You'll have to torture me. I'll never tell you.

Austin: Where's Dr. Evil hiding?

Mustafa: Damn, three times. He's hiding in his secret volcano lair.

Austin: Where's Dr. Evil's secret volcano lair?

Mustafa: [spits] I spit at that question.

Austin: Do I really have to ask you two more times?

Mustafa: Go to hell, Powers.

Austin: Fine. Where is Dr. Evil's secret volcano lair?

Mustafa: I will take it to the grave with me!

Felicity Shagwell: Ah ha! You have to answer. He asked you three times.

Mustafa: No no no! The second question was 'Do I really have to ask you two more times?'. So that would be the first question in a new line of questioning, and wouldn't count in the other line of questioning.

Austin: He's right.

[last lines]

Mustafa: Hello, out there! Is the movie over? I'm still down here, and I'm still in quite a lot of pain. Maybe someone in the lobby could call an ambulance. Oh! The pain is really quite severe. I fashioned a makeshift splint. Here goes nothing!

[the splint snaps; Mustafa screams and hits the ground]

[Dr. Evil has opened a trapdoor, sending Mustafa and several incompetent henchmen falling into a furnace, but Mustafa is still alive. A gunshot is heard]

Mustafa: You shot me!

[pause]

Mustafa: You shot me right in the arm!

[another gunshot]

Mustafa: [taking Ego's order] Do you know what you'd like this evening, sir?

Anton Ego: Yes, I think I do. After reading a lot of overheated puffery about your new cook, you know what I'm craving? A little perspective. That's it. I'd like some fresh, clear, well seasoned perspective. Can you suggest a good wine to go with that?

Mustafa: With what, sir?

Anton Ego: Perspective. Fresh out, I take it?

Mustafa: I am, uh...

Anton Ego: Very well. Since you're all out of perspective and no one else seems to have it in this BLOODY TOWN, I'll make you a deal. You provide the food, I'll provide the perspective, which would go nicely with a bottle of Cheval Blanc 1947.

Mustafa: I'm afraid... your dinner selection?

Anton Ego: [stands up angrily] Tell your chef Linguini that I want whatever he dares to serve me. Tell him to hit me with his best SHOT.

Skinner: [seeing a ladle in Linguini's hand] You are COOKING? How DARE you cook in MY kitchen! Where do get the gall to attempt something so monumentally idiotic? I should have you drawn and quartered! I'll do it! I think the law is on my side! Larousse, draw and quarter this man! *After* you put him in the duck press to squeeze the fat out of his head!

[as he's shouting, Lalo ladles some soup into a tureen and brings it to the waiter]

Linguini: Oh no no no, OH NO, don't let them, don't eat...

Skinner: What are you blathering about?

Linguini: ...the soup!

Skinner: [sees the soup going out runs to stop it] Soup? Stop that soup! Noooooooo!

[bursts into the dining room to the stares of the diners, retreats back into the kitchen and watches through the window as the waiter serves the soup]

Solene LeClaire: [tasting the soup] Waiter!

Skinner: [gasps] Linguini! You're fired! F-I-R-E-D! Fired!

Mustafa: She wants to see the chef.

Mustafa: [scared] B-but he...

[clears his throat and goes to speak to the customer; Colette tastes the soup; Skinner re-enters]

Colette: What did the customer say?

Mustafa: It was not a customer. It was a critic.

Colette: Ego?

Skinner: Solene LeClaire.

Colette: LeClaire. What did she say?

Mustafa: She likes the soup.

Mustafa: [panicked] Someone has asked what is new!

Horst: New?

Mustafa: Yes! What do I tell them?

Horst: Well, what *did* you tell them?

Mustafa: I told them I would ask!

Skinner: What are you blathering about?

Horst: Customers are asking what is new!

Mustafa: What should I tell them?

Skinner: What *did* you tell them?

Mustafa: [exasperated] I TOLD THEM I WOULD ASK!

Skinner: This is simple. Just pull out an old Gusteau recipe, something we haven't made in a while...

Mustafa: They know about the old stuff. They like Linguini's soup.

Skinner: They are asking for food from LINGUINI?

Colette: Table five coming up right now.

Skinner: Coming down the line.

Colette: Set. Hot. Open oven.

Skinner: Coming around.

Colette: Oui, chef. One filet mignon, three lamb, two duck.

Skinner: Fire those soufflés for table six, ja?

Colette: Five minutes, chef.

Remy: Oh, God.

Mustafa: Tonight, I'd like to present the foie gras. It has a wonderful finish.

Skinner: Ready to go on table seven. Come on! Let's go!

Colette: Oui, chef.

Mustafa: [giving newlywed advice as an older couple flamenco dances] You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days. Yes, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God. But let there be spaces in your togetherness, and let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another, but make not a bond of love. Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

Mustafa: Fill each other's cup, but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread, but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, even as the strings of a lute are alone, though they quiver with the same music.

[a glass is accidentally shattered]

Mustafa: Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping, for only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

[now dancing on broken glass]

Mustafa: And stand together, yet not too near together, for pillars of the temple stand apart. And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

Mustafa: Let us not be too quick to call others evil. For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst? Truly when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts, it drinks even of dead waters. You are good when you strive to give of yourself. Yet you are not evil when you seek gain for yourself.

Mustafa: For when you strive for gain, you are but a root that clings to the earth and sucks at her breast. Surely the fruit cannot say to the root, "Be like me, ripe and full and ever giving of your abundance." For the fruit, giving is a need, as receiving is a need to the root.

Mustafa: I have seen people throw themselves down and worship their own freedom, like slaves before a tyrant. Praising him though he slays them. I have seen the freest among them wear their freedom as a handcuff, and my heart bled within me. For you can only be free when you no longer speak of freedom as a goal. And how can you be free, unless you break the chains you have fastened around yourself? In truth, that which you call freedom is the strongest of these chains, though its links glitter in the sun.

Mustafa: And to become free, what would you remove that is not a part of yourself? If it's a tyrant, his throne was built within you. If it's a care you would cast off, that care has been chosen by you. And if it's a fear you would drive away, the root of that fear is in your heart, and not in the hand of the feared.

Mustafa: These things move within you, as lights and shadows in constant half-embrace. You'll be free indeed, not when your days are without a care, nor you nights without grief, but rather when these things bind up your life, and yet you rise above them, unbound.

Mustafa: All work is noble. You work that you may keep peace with the earth, and the soul of the earth. For to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons, and to step out of life's procession that marches in majesty and proud submission towards the infinite. When you work you are a flute, through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music. And when you work with love, you bind yourself to yourself, and to one another, and to God.

Mustafa: And what is it to work with love? It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth. It is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house. It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit. It is to charge all things you fashion with a breath of your own spirit, and to know that all the blessed dead are standing about you and watching.

Mustafa: Often have I heard you say, as if speaking in sleep, one who works in marble, and finds the shape of his own soul in the stone, is nobler than he who ploughs the soil. And he who seizes the rainbow to lay it on a cloth in the likeness of man, is more than he who makes the sandals for our feet. But I say, not in sleep, but in the over-wakefulness of noontide, that the wind speaks not more sweetly to the giant oaks than it does to the smallest blades of grass; And they are great, who turn the voice of the wind into a song made sweeter by their own loving.

Mustafa: Work is love made visible.

Mustafa: There are all kinds of cages. This house has been mine for seven years. My crime? Poetry.

Mustafa: Dear Almitra, we don't need to be afraid of death, for life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one. How would we know the secret of death unless we look for it in the heart of life? The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind in the day cannot unveil the mystery of light. In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond. And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow, your heart dreams of spring.

Mustafa: Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity. For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered? Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

Mustafa: [standing before the firing squad] Farewell people of Orphalese! Patient is the captain of my ship, and restless are the sails. The mariners have heard the song of the sea and will wait no longer. I am ready.

Mustafa: Do not forget that I will come back to you. A little while, and my longing shall gather dust and foam for another body. A little while, a moment of rest upon the wind, and another woman shall bear me. Farewell to you and the youth I have spent with you. It was just yesterday we met in a dream. But now sleep has fled, our dream is over and we must part. If in the twilight of memory we should meet once more, we will speak together again, and you shall sing me a deeper song.

[last lines]

Mustafa: When you part from your friend, you grieve not. For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence. And let there be no purpose in friendship, save the deepening of the spirit.

Pasha: [about newlyweds] Kissing. That's all he knows. Give her time to eat, for heaven's sake.

Mustafa: [crowd laughing] They're newly weds. That's what they're supposed to do, right?

Grand Father: Who knows? The last time I kissed a pretty girl, the Dead Sea was only sick.

Halim: [befuddled] I know everyone sees me as this self-assured, dauntless, impenetrable fortress of strength.

[grape plops into his wine glass]

Halim: Ahh! But, um, the truth is, and this might surprise you, I actually have one thing that fills me with fear.

Mustafa: And that is?

[villagers lean in to listen]

Halim: [whispering] Expressing feelings on love.

Mustafa: Ah, love. For Kamila?

Halim: You knew?

Mary: Whatever it is, I'm probably allergic to it.

Mustafa: I guarantee that you are not allergic to Turkish Delight.

Mary: Are you from Turkey?

Mustafa: Me? No. I am from Lebanon.

Mary: So where's the Lebanese delight?

Mustafa: You want Lebanese delight?

Mary: Sure, bring it out.

Carl 'Cookie' Fitzgerald: Well, Mustafa. How about cleaning up the benches, please?

Mustafa: They're pigs! Let them eat like pigs.

Carl 'Cookie' Fitzgerald: Yeah, I know, but... it's my kitchen.

Mustafa: Your kitchen, you clean it.

Mustafa: Let us go now wicked man, we want to get out!

Altgewordener Muck: I won't let you out!

first child: We really won't do it again. Please let us go home!

Altgewordener Muck: I won't let you out. Not until you've all heard the story of the wicked man.

Mustafa: We don't want a story, we want out!

first child: A real story?

second child: What kind of story would he tell?

third child: He won't let us out, Mustafa.

Mustafa: Ah, tell your stupid story, but make it quick!

Altgewordener Muck: I'm going to tell it to you until the clock over there runs out. Set the clock now Mustafa. I'll stop to tell you the story at the sound of the last ball falling down. So... once upon a time... no no I can't start that way. I have to start by saying... I was, once upon a time, a boy just like you, Mustafa.

Mustafa: [final words of the film] Didn't you hear what he was shouting at you?

Altgewordener Muck: Leave him alone. I'm sure he doesn't know the story of... the Little Muck.