Elliot:
Hi. How are you? My name's Elliot, and I'm with the Cub Scouts of America. We're... we're selling uncut cocaine to get to the jamboree.

Dick Ritchie:
Clarence, do you have any idea how much coke you have here?

Clarence Worley:
How much?

Dick Ritchie:
I don't know, but it's a fuckin' lot.

Clifford Worley:
'Cause you, you're part eggplant.

Vincenzo Coccotti:
Ohhh!

Clifford Worley:
Huh? Hey! Hey! Hey!

Vincenzo Coccotti:
You're a cantaloupe.

Drexl Spivey:
Marty. Y'know what we got here? Motherfuckin' Charlie Bronson. Mr. Majestyk.

Nicholson:
You're an actor. Act, motherfucker.

Big Don:
I eat the pussy, I eat the butt, I eat every motherfuckin' thang.

Drexl Spivey:
They got everything here from a diddled-eyed joe to damned if I know.

Mentor:
You think a cop gives a fuck about a pimp? Listen. Every pimp in the world gets shot. Two in the back of the fuckin' head. Cops'd throw a party, man.

Clarence Worley:
Well, he ain't so much a good guy as he is just a bad mother fucker. I mean, he gets paid by people to fuck guys up.

Alabama:
If you gave me a million years to ponder, I would've never guessed that true romance and Detroit would ever go together.

Drexl Spivey:
Now I know I'm pretty, but I ain't as pretty as a couple of titties.

Clarence Worley:
Eliot, do I look like a beautiful blonde with big tits and an ass that tastes like French vanilla ice cream?

Elliot:
What?

Clarence Worley:
I said do I look like a beautiful blonde with big big tits and an ass that tastes like French vanilla ice cream?

Elliot:
No.

Clarence Worley:
No. Okay, then why are you telling me all this bullshit, huh? You wanna fuck me?

Lee:
Don't give me the finger. I'll fucking have you killed.

Lee:
What does Joe like?

Elliot:
Um..."Body Bags 2".

Lee:
Oooo, that's imaginative. I've got more taste in my penis.

Clarence Worley:
I mean look at her. It looks like she fell off the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.

Clarence Worley:
I always said, if I had to fuck a guy... I mean had to, if my life depended on it... I'd fuck Elvis.

Dick Ritchie:
I don't have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out. All I got is fuckin' Floyd.

Floyd:
Don't condescend me, man. I'll fuckin' kill ya, man.

Clifford Worley:
I haven't seen Clarence.

Coccotti:
You see that?

Coccotti:
That smarts, doesn't it? Getting slammed in the nose. Fucks you all up. You get that pain shootin' through your brain, your eyes fill up with water. That ain't any kind of fun, but what I have to offer you, that's as good as it's gonna get. And it won't ever get that good again. We talked to your neighbors. They saw a Cadillac. Purple Cadillac. Clarence's purple Cadillac, parked in front of your trailer yesterday. Mr. Worley, you seen your son?

Coccotti:
You know who I am, Mr. Worley?

Clifford Worley:
I got no idea.

Coccotti:
I'm the Anti-Christ. You got me in a vendetta kind of mood. You tell the angels in heaven you never seen evil so singularly personified as you did in the face of the man who killed you. My name is Vincent Coccotti. I work as counsel for Mr. Blue Lou Boyle, the man your son stole from. I hear you were once a cop so I can assume you've heard of us before. Am I correct?

Clifford Worley:
I heard of Blue Lou Boyle.

Coccotti:
I'm glad. Hopefully it means we can cut out the part of the conversation where you're wondering how full of shit I am.

Coccotti:
Now, what we got here is a little game of show and tell. You don't wanna show me nothing but you're telling me everything.

Virgil:
Now the first time you kill somebody, that's the hardest. I don't give a shit if you're fuckin' Wyatt Earp or Jack the Ripper. Remember that guy in Texas? The guy up in that fuckin' tower that killed all them people? I'll bet you green money that first little black dot he took a bead on, that was the bitch of the bunch. First one is tough, no fuckin' foolin'. The second one... the second one ain't no fuckin' Mardis Gras either, but it's better than the first one 'cause you still feel the same thing, y'know... except it's more diluted, y'know it's... it's better. I threw up on the first one, you believe that? Then the third one... the third one is easy, you level right off. It's no problem. Now... shit... now I do it just to watch their fuckin' expression change.

Drexl Spivey:
He must have thought it was white boy day. It ain't white boy day, is it?

Marty:
No man, It ain't white boy day.

Clarence Worley:
If there's one thing this last week has taught me, it's better to have a gun and not need it than to need a gun and not have it.

Alabama:
Amid the chaos of that day, when all I could hear was the thunder of gunshots, and all I could smell was the violence in the air, I look back and am amazed that my thoughts were so clear and true, that three words went through my mind endlessly, repeating themselves like a broken record: you're so cool, you're so cool, you're so cool. And sometimes Clarence asks me what I would have done if he had died, if that bullet had been two inches more to the left. To this, I always smile, as if I'm not going to satisfy him with a response. But I always do. I tell him of how I would want to die, but that the anguish and the want of death would fade like the stars at dawn, and that things would be much as they are now. Perhaps. Except maybe I wouldn't have named our son Elvis.

Clarence Worley:
I mean, she... she a four alarm fire or what?

Alabama:
Okey dokey doggie daddy.

Clifford Worley:
Son of a bitch was right. She taste's like a peach.

Clifford Worley:
You know, I don't believe you.

Coccotti:
That's of minor importance. What is of major fucking importance is that I believe you.

Coccotti:
I haven't killed anybody since 1984. Goddamn his soul to burn for eternity in fucking hell for making me get my hands dirty. Go over to this comedian's son's apartment, come back with something that tells me where that asshole went, so I can wipe this egg off my face and finish this fucked-up family for good.

Elliot:
This no longer concerns me right? So I'm just going to leave.

Lee:
How do you know his name? Why the fuck does he know your name? You piece of shit. You can forget about acting for the next twenty years, your fucking career is over. Take your fucking SAG card and burn it. You little cocksucker. I treated you like a son. You fucking stab me in the heart.

Clarence Worley:
I can't tell you... that was one of the best times I ever had. It was. But, you know, I knew something must be rotten in Denmark. There was no way you could like me that much. Man, I can't tell you how relieved I was when you took off your dress, you... you didn't have a dick.

Alabama:
Stop being so fucking calm about all this.

Clarence Worley:
Heeeellloooo baaabbbyyyy...

Boris:
Call me an ambulance. Somebody, call me an ambulance.

Nicky Dimes:
Shut up.

Boris:
Fuck you, I'm bleeding.

Nicky Dimes:
I'll call you a hearst... this is for Cody.

Virgil:
All right, no more Mr Fucking Nice Guy.

Vincenzo Coccotti:
...your son, the cowboy, it's claimed, came in the room blazin', and didn't stop 'till they were pretty sure everybody was dead.

Clifford Worley:
What are you talkin' about?

Vincenzo Coccotti:
Talkin' about a massacre. They snatched my narcotics, hightailed it outta there. Woulda got away with it, but your son, fuckhead that he is, left his driver's license in a dead guy's hand.

Mentor:
I like you, Clarence. Always have. Always will.

Nicholson:
Man, this boy Clarence is a wild one, I like'em.

Mentor:
I gotta hand it to you Clarence.

Clarence Worley:
I was cool?

Mentor:
Naw man you were cooler than cool.

Alabama:
I'm gonna go jump in the tub and get all slippery and soapy and then hop in that waterbed and watch X-rated movies 'till you get your ass back in my lovn' arms.

Alabama:
Did I do my part okay?

Clarence Worley:
Bamaloo you were perfect.

Alabama:
Like a ninja?

Clarence Worley:
Like a ninja.

Virgil:
Hi.

Alabama:
Hi... cigarette?

Virgil:
No... that's a very nice outfit.

Alabama:
This? I got this in Las Vegas, Nevada.

Virgil:
Alabama, where's our coke and where's Clarence, and when's he coming back?

Alabama:
I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong room. My name is Saddie. We don't have any coke but there's a Pepsi machine down the hall. I don't know anybody named Clarence but perhaps my husband does. You can ask him because he'll be home any minute. He plays football. He's just at a... practice.

Nicholson:
You just made it big time.

Nicky Dimes:
You're no longer an extra...

Nicholson:
...or a bit player...

Nicky Dimes:
...or a supporting actor...

Nicholson:
...you're a fucking star. You are a fucking star. And you are going to be playing your one-man show for the next two fucking years for a captive audience. And listen to this, you get out in a few years and meet some old lady, get married, and you'll be so unrestrained to your wife's needs because you'll know what it feels like to be a woman.

Nicky Dimes:
Of course, you'll only want to fuck her in the ass because that pussy wont be tight enough anymore.

Nicholson:
Good one detective, right you fucking faggot?

Boris:
Lee, this guy's...

Lee:
Boris, please, I'm meeting people right now.

Clarence Worley:
Uh, Mr. Donowitz.

Lee:
Oh, Clarence, don't insult me, just call me Lee.

Boris:
Lee.

Lee:
Boris, shut the fuck up.

Lee:
Boris, shut the fuck up. We're all gonna die here. These are cops.

Boris:
So what, they're cops, who gives a shit? Hey Lee, there's something I never told you about me: I hate fuckin' cops.

Vincenzo Coccotti:
We're gonna have a little Q&A, and at the risk of sounding redundant, please... make your answers genuine.

Drexl Spivey:
Ey' yo, yo why you trippin'? We're just fuckin' with ya. Infact, I'm gonna show you what I mean with a little demonstration. Toss me the burner.

Drexl Spivey:
Alright, peep this. Pretend this is that fine centerfold bitch, y'know what I'm saying'? And you're you...

Vincenzo Coccotti:
Sicilians are great liars. The best. We have generations of great liars in our family. My own father was the world heavyweight champion of Sicilian liars. And he taught me that a man has sixteen different behaviors and mannerisms that give him away when he's lying. A woman's got twenty, but anyway... and if you know these like the back of your own hand, they beat lie detectors all to hell.