Doc: "Don't say a word."
Doc: "I don't want to know your name. I don't want to know anything about you."
Marty: "Listen, Doc... Doc..."
Marty: "You gotta help..."
Doc: "Don't tell me anything. Quiet! I'm gann read your thoughts. Let's see now. You've come here from a great distance?"
Marty: "Yeah, exactly."
Doc: "Don't tell me! Uh, you want me to buy a subscription to The Saturday Evening Post?"
Doc: "Not a word! Not a word! Not a word now! Quiet. Uh, donations... You want me to make a donation to the Coast Guard Youth Auxiliary."
Marty: "Doc, I'm from the future. I came here in a time machine that you invented. Now I need your help to get back to the year 1985."
Doc: "By God! Do you know what this means? It means that this damn thing doesn't work at all!"