Judge Weaver:
Mr. Biegler, you finally got your rape into the case...

Judge Weaver:
Now, Mr. Dancer, get off the panties. You've done enough damage.

Judge Weaver:
Mr. Biegler, you finally got your rape into the case, and I think all the details should now be made clear to the jury. What exactly was the undergarment just referred to?

Paul Biegler:
Panties, Your Honor.

Judge Weaver:
Do you expect this subject to come up again?

Paul Biegler:
Yes, Sir.

Judge Weaver:
There's a certain light connotation attached to the word "panties." Can we find another name for them?

Mitch Lodwick:
I never heard my wife call 'em anything else.

Judge Weaver:
Mr. Biegler?

Paul Biegler:
I'm a bachelor, Your Honor.

Judge Weaver:
That's a great help. Mr. Dancer?

Claude Dancer:
When I was overseas during the war, Your Honor, I learned a French word. I'm afraid that might be slightly suggestive.

Judge Weaver:
Most French words are.

Paul Biegler:
If you do that one more time, I'll punch you all the way out into the middle of Lake Superior!

Parnell Emmett McCarthy:
Twelve people go off into a room: twelve different minds, twelve different hearts, from twelve different walks of life; twelve sets of eyes, ears, shapes, and sizes. And these twelve people are asked to judge another human being as different from them as they are from each other. And in their judgment, they must become of one mind - unanimous. It's one of the miracles of Man's disorganized soul that they can do it, and in most instances, do it right well. God bless juries.