
Jack Walsh: Here come two words for you: shut the fuck up.

Carlos: You son of a bitch! How could you do this? Friendship is the only choice in life you can make that's yours! You can't choose your family, God damn it - I've had to face that! And no man should be judged for whatever direction his dick goes - that's like blaming a compass for pointing north, for Christ's sake! Friendship is all we have! We chose each other. How could you fuck it up? How could you make us look so bad?

Chucky: We're friends 'til the end, remember?
Andy: This is the end, friend.

Willow: What are you doing?
Madmartigan: I found some blackroot. She loves it.
Willow: Blackroot? I am the father of two children and you never, ever give a baby blackroot.
Madmartigan: Well my mother raised us on blackroot. It's good for you. Puts hair on your chest. Doesn't it, Sticks?
Willow: Her name is not Sticks. She's Elora Danan, the future empress of Tir Asleen and the last thing she's gonna want is a hairy chest.

John McClane: Oh, you're in charge. Well, I got news for you, Dwayne. From up here, it doesn't look like you're in charge of jack shit.
Dwayne Robinson: You listen to me, you little asshole.
John McClane: Asshole"? I'm not the one who just got butt-fucked on national TV, *Dwayne*.

Jane: How about a rain check?
Frank: Well, let's just stick to dinner.

Victor: I'm Lin. You Jackson? You look like a Jackson. That must make you Frank Ducks.
Frank Dux: No, it's DUX.
Victor: Oh, right, like put up your dukes.

Rib Joint Customer: Ya got any soda?
Hammer: One dollar.
Rib Joint Customer: Aw, c'mon, now! Look out for a brother, man, c'mon, yeah. Check this out: why don't you let me get a sip for fifteen cents?
Hammer: My cups cost more than fifteen cents.
Rib Joint Customer: All right, fuck the cup. Pour it in my hand for a dime.

Col. James Braddock: Walk or crawl, we're gonna make it.

Sharkey: What the fuck is this?
Frank McBain: Your worst nightmare, Butt-horn.

Julie Peters: People are gonna help each other, aren't they? Rebuilding things?
Harry Washello: I think it's the insects' turn.

Frank McCrae: Whole city's goin' to hell. You can't take a pee anywhere anymore.