"Dirty Steve" Stephens: Damn good riding with you, Chavez.
Chavez: Many nights, my friend... Many nights I've put a blade to your throat while you were sleeping. Glad I never killed you, Steve. You're all right.
Vanessa: Ho-ly shit! Well look who got beaten with the ugly stick. Bob, is that you? My God, I can't believe such an itty bitty gun could make such a big mess out of someone! You are so ugly Bob! Oh and hey I heard you have one of those poop bags where the shit comes out the side, you're just a big old shitbag aren't you Bob! I hope you think of me every time you shit in that thing, motherfucker!
Charlie Prince: For a one-leg rancher... He's one tough son of a bitch.
Frank Castle: Latin Kings.
Micro: Let him go, Frank.
Frank Castle: You know this piece of shit?
Micro: Ex piece of shit.
Frank Castle: Yeah. He's a regular choir boy.
Carlos: Fuck you, cracker.
Micro: Language.
Turk: Do you like poetry?
Charles Randall: Yeah, I do. Roses are red, violets are blue. I wanna poke your fucking eyes out with my dick, you fuck.
Social Worker: What's so funny?
Arthur Fleck: I was just thinking... just thinking of a joke.
Social Worker: Do you wanna tell it to me?
Arthur Fleck: You wouldn't get it.
English Teacher: Angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night.
Dade Murphy: Ginsberg.
English Teacher: Nice, very nice.
Archie Moses: This is a '70s porno. You know how I can tell? Because the guy's dick has sideburns.
Matt: The only reason you stay here is so you can fuck my mother and eat her food. motherfucker. food eater.
Vinny Gambini: Everything that guy just said is bullshit.
Alex Murphy: Dead or alive, you're coming with me!
Bangles: Oh, hi, Bugsy.
Bugsy Malone: Hi, Bangles. Is Blousey there, please?
Bangles: She won't see you.
Bugsy Malone: Tell her I'm sick.
Bangles: You're sick?
Bugsy Malone: Yeah, sick of waiting.
Skip: I'd rather be home with a fucked-up hand up in some pussy than to be out here healthier than a motherfucker without it... Shit.
Mary Jane: Who are you?
Spider-Man: You know who I am.
Mary Jane: I do?
Spider-Man: Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.
Archie: People ask the question... What's a RocknRolla? And I tell 'em - it's not about drums, drugs, and hospital drips, oh no. There's more there than that, my friend. We all like a bit of the good life - some the money, some the drugs, other the sex game, the glamour, or the fame. But a RocknRolla, oh, he's different. Why? Because a real RocknRolla wants the fucking lot.
Ed: Listen to me, dude, I'm having a really fucked-up, really wet, very bad fucking day.
Eddie Vogel: How's it hanging, counselor?
Mick Haller: A little to the left.
Jamesir Bensonmum: She murdered herself in her sleep, sir.
Dick Charleston: You mean suicide?
Jamesir Bensonmum: Oh no, it was murder, all right. Mrs. Twain hated herself.
Ray Merrimen: I ain't cuffin' up.
Big Nick: That's OK. I don't bring my cuffs anyway. (01:34:05)