Richard Kimble: I didn't kill my wife!
Sam Gerard: I don't care. (00:37:10)
Phil: I killed myself so many times I don't even exist anymore.
Slick: I wanna shoot someone y'kno and this feels like just the gun to do it with.
Miklo: What am I going to tell my parole officer?
Popeye: Tell him to suck his pee-pee.
Alabama: Okey dokey doggie daddy.
Jack Colt: Who are you?
Mr. Jigsaw: I'm your worst nightmare.
Jack Colt: No, waking up without my penis is my worst nightmare.
Mr. Lee: Take the money.
Bill Foster: You think I'm a thief? Oh, you see, I'm not the thief. I'm not the one charging 85 cents for a stinking soda! You're the thief. I'm just standing up for my rights as a consumer.
Pachanga: Sometime it bes that way, papi.
Wallace: Cracking toast, Gromit.
Charlie Mackenzie: Harriet. Harry-ette. Hard-hearted harbinger of haggis. Beautiful, bemuse-ed, bellicose butcher. Un-trust... ing. Un-know... ing. Un-love... ed?"He wants you back," he screamed into the night air like a fireman going to a window that has no fire... except the passion of his heart. I am lonely. It's really hard. This poem... sucks.
John Spartan: Brake! Brake! Brake now, you Mickey Mouse-piece of shit!
Mary Jo Buttafuoco: This is, like, the worst thing that could ever happen.
Caine: I thought killing those fools would make me feel good, but it really didn't make me feel anything. I just knew that I could kill somebody, and if I had to, I could do it again.
Matt: I just haven't been with that many girls.
Vivian: I'm a real good teacher.
John Connor: They say if you resort to violence, then you've already lost.
Seitz: Sir, what about our friend Coontz?
Paul McDaggett: Well, if we'd let him live, we'd have to have paid him.
Larry Lipton: Claustrophobia and a dead body - this is a neurotic's jackpot.
Jack Grimaldi: I try to stop thinking. Try to get my head straight. If I could just get my head straight... then everything would be all right.