Jimmy:
So, this Joe, is he cool?

Pinky:
My motherfucker is so cool, when he goes to bed, sheep count him.

Bergman:
Don't you want to hear my last words?

Joe Moore:
I just did.

Bergman:
Everybody needs money. That's why they call it money.

Bergman:
I hate to do anything as dramatic as count to three but one, two, three.

Jimmy:
No one can hear me.

Joe Moore:
No one can hear what you don't say.

Jimmy:
Hey, I'm as quiet as an ant pissing on cotton.

Joe Moore:
I don't want you as quiet as an ant pissing on cotton. I want you as quiet as an ant not even thinking about pissing on cotton.

Joe Moore:
He isn't gonna shoot me, then he hadn't oughta point a gun at me. It's insincere.

Joe Moore:
Why doesn't he shoot me?

Fran Moore:
That's the deal.

Joe Moore:
He ain't gonna shoot me?

Fran Moore:
No.

Joe Moore:
Then he hadn't ought to point a gun at me. It's insincere.

Jimmy:
What do you say we stop for a drink?

Fran Moore:
It's a long road. Let's get to the meet.

Jimmy:
Yeah, that's difficult. You want me to tell you why? There is no meet.

Fran Moore:
Joe wouldn't like that.

Jimmy:
We left Joe at the airport. There is no meet, you know that. Your guy went out, got his picture on a postage stamp. He got old. Let's cut the shucking and the jiving. What kind of man sends you to me, sends his wife to me? To distract me? Oh, surprise, I was all taken in. How about that? What a fool I am. Would I do that to you? Would I do that to you? And p.s., who liked it? For old time's sake, why don't we cut the nonsense and say what it is.

Fran Moore:
I need a drink.

Jimmy:
What the hell, did he think he was gonna go home with the gold? In what fairy tale? Only one didn't know that was him. That old man needed someone to sit down, draw it for him on a napkin.

Bergman:
Where's the gold?

Pinky:
You know, I'm reluctant to tell you.

Bergman:
When we put it to you, you know when we put it to you, you're gonna be telling us the gross national product of Bolivia.

Pinky:
Hey...

Bergman:
You're gonna be telling us the area codes of Belgium and Luxembourg.

Bergman:
How do you pick up your share? Where's the gold? Where's the meet?

Pinky:
What're you gonna do, hurt me?

Bergman:
Well, no, actually, no. I'm not gonna hurt you. But tell a guy, I'm full of admiration. What was the deal? What was the deal?

Pinky:
The way you're looking at the deal, the deal was we get away with the gold. Cute, huh?

Bergman:
No, that's charming. And then what?

Pinky:
We slip away.

Bergman:
You slip away? And me and my guys, we go to the meet and we find a truck full of pig iron. Is that the thing?

Pinky:
Well, Joe figured you weren't ever going to the meet.

Bergman:
He did? You know, your guy doesn't get it in his head to fly off on a variation, we're all out on the patio right now, we're all having a margarita! Where's the gold?

Pinky:
You understand my reluctance to tell you.

Fran Moore:
Cute plan, though.

Joe Moore:
Cute as a Chinese baby.

Bobby Blane:
You know why the chicken crossed the road? Because the road crossed the chicken.

Bergman:
What, do you want to tell me what made you a criminal?

Joe Moore:
What made *you* a criminal?

Bergman:
Nothing made me a criminal. I *am* a criminal.

Joe Moore:
Why should we believe her? Why the fuck did he send her here?

Jimmy:
I think she came to me on her own.

Bergman:
What's that lady see in you, anyway?

Joe Moore:
I'm resilient.

Bergman:
So's Gumby.

Joe Moore:
I got a better profile.

Bergman:
This other thing, the Swiss thing, if I was a publisher I'd publish the plans.

Bobby Blane:
Why don't you publish the plans?

Bergman:
Yeah, no, I said that's what I would do if I was a publisher. Unfortunately, I'm a thief so I have to do that thing.

Joe Moore:
You screw me on Wednesday, you screw me on Friday. I gotta go, I got my picture on a cereal box.

Pinky:
It's a shame you know what, we didn't actually get to do the thing, the swiss job. It's a beautiful plan.

Joe Moore:
Cute, huh?

Pinky:
Cute as a pail full of kittens.

Joe Moore:
You want to play the dozens? Huh? Here we go. There was an error at the hospital, you died at birth, your turn.

Jimmy:
You going somewhere?

Joe Moore:
What are you, the social service lady?

Jimmy:
You thinking of going somewhere?

Joe Moore:
You come to take the baby back?

Pinky:
Oh my, oh my. Go sell chocolates you Heidi-motherfuckers, go sell cukoo clocks, we got your gold!

Pinky:
Nice day for the race.

Pinky:
The human race. Kids growing up, so on. Hope for the future.

Bergman:
OK, you want to wrap it up? Or you want to just stand around here, try to guess my real name?

Joe Moore:
What is your real name?

Bergman:
Rumpelstiltskin.

Joe Moore:
What was it before you changed it?

Joe Moore:
She could talk her way out of a sunburn.

Joe Moore:
What do you want me to do? Just pull up a chair while you rape me?

Bobby Blane:
Sometimes adrenaline gives people the shakes, some might think it's precarious, so maybe you'd want to pray about it.

Jimmy:
I'm not a religious man.

Bobby Blane:
There's nothing wrong with prayer. We knew this firefighter, this trooper, who always caried a bible next to his heart. We used to mock him, but that bible stopped a bullet.

Jimmy:
No shit.

Bobby Blane:
Hand of God, that bible stopped a bullet, would of ruined that fucker's heart. And had he had another bible in front of his face, that man would be alive today.

Pinky:
Never liked the Swiss, they make them little clocks, these two cocksuckers come out of 'em with these little hammers, hit each other on the head. What kind of sick mentality is that?

Joe Moore:
Nobody lives forever.

Fran Moore:
Frank Sinatra gave it a shot.

Joe Moore:
Where's my wife?

Bergman:
Let me tell you something about your girl Joe, she's a whore.

D.A. Freccia:
Looks like gold.

Joe Moore:
That's cause I gilded it.

Bergman:
You should have popped the girl.

Joe Moore:
Well, you should have been there.

Betty Croft:
Take it easy, baby, that stuff'll rot your stomach lining.

Fran Moore:
Yeah, but I get to drink it first.

Bergman:
Where's the gold?

Joe Moore:
In the heart of the pure.

Bobby Blane:
Your weight and your fate, right here. Your weight and your fate.

Bergman:
Are you fuckin' with me? Are you FUCKIN' with me? Or are you done FUCKIN' with me? Because I've just financialized the problem, and you've just become more trouble than you're worth.

Bergman:
Lemme add this sweetener: you do the fuckin' job, or else I'm gonna turn you over. I'm gonna drop a Roosevelt dime on your ass. 'Finita la commedia.' How strict is that, you fuckin' vontz? I'm sorry that I hafta use such language in front of a woman, were it not for who I'd waste your fucking ass.

Bergman:
I'm your partner. I don't set you up, what do you got? Little lambs eat ivy.

Bergman:
Ain't you a piece of work?

Fran Moore:
Yeah. I came all the way from China in a matchbox.

Joe Moore:
You really are the brass ring.