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This is pitiful. A thousand people, freezing their butts off, waiting to worship a rat. What a hype. Well they used to mean something in this town, they used to pull the hog out and they used to eat it. You're hypocrites! All of ya! You got a problem with what I'm saying Larry? Untie your tongue and you come out here and talk, huh? Am I upsetting you, Princess? You know you want a prediction about the weather, you're asking the wrong Phil. I'll give you a prediction. It's gonna be cold, it's gonna be gray, and it's gonna last you the rest of your life.
Once again the eyes of the nation have turned here to this, tiny village in western Pennsylvania, blah bl-blah bl-blah. There is no way this winter is ever going to end, as long as this groundhog keeps seeing his shadow. I don't see any way out. He's gotta be stopped. And I have to stop him.
Brushes with death are like snowflakes. Each one is unique and icy cold.
When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. But standing here among the people of Punxsutawney and basking in the of warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn't imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter. From Punxsutawney, it's Phil Connors.
Is it too much to ask for a little precipitation?!
I'm not cryin, it's just been rainin on my face.
This is one time where television really fails to capture the true excitement of a large squirrel predicting the weather. I for one am very grateful to have been here. From Punxsutaney, I'm Phil Connors.
I moved to the Ukraine. And it was cold, and everyone had guns, and smelled like soup.
Once a year the eyes of the nation turn to this tiny hamlet in western Pennsylvania, to watch a master at work. The master, Punxsutawney Phil, the world's most famous weatherman, the groundhog. Who, as legend has it, can predict the coming of an early spring. So I guess the question we have to ask ourselves today is, does Phil feel lucky?
The time to repair the roof is when the sun is shining.
I'm no meteorologist, but I'm pretty sure it's raining %!&&#@$!
If you're not drunk, it's not ice fishing.
There's a storm comin, buddy. There's a storm comin.
overcast and cloudy, a photographer's day...sunset and sunrise, a photographer's prize...
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