Jules Winnfield: Ezekiel 25:17. 'The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyrannies of evil men. Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness. For he is truly his brothers' keeper and finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.' Now I've been saying that shit for years, and if you've ever heard it, it meant your ass. I never gave much thought to what it meant, I just thought it was a cold blooded thing to say to a mother fucker before I popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this morning that made me think twice. Now I'm thinking it could mean you're the evil man, and I'm the righteous man. And Mr. 9mm here is the shepherd, protecting my righteous ass. Or maybe it means that you're the righteous man, and I'm the shepherd, and it's the world that's evil and selfish. Now I'd like that, but you see that shit ain't the truth. The truth is, YOU'RE the weak, and I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm trying, Ringo. I'm trying real hard to be the shepherd.
Forrest Gump: I may not be a smart man, but I know what love is.
Red: There's not a day goes by I don't feel regret. Not because I'm in here, or because you think I should. I look back on the way I was then: a young, stupid kid who committed that terrible crime. I want to talk to him. I want to try and talk some sense to him, tell him the way things are. But I can't. That kid's long gone and this old man is all that's left. I got to live with that. Rehabilitated? It's just a bullshit word. So you go on and stamp your form, sonny, and stop wasting my time. Because to tell you the truth, I don't give a shit.
One Stab: Tristan died in 1963. The moon of the popping trees. He was last seen up in the North Country, where the hunting was still good. His grave is unmarked, but it does not matter. He had always lived in the borderland anyway, somewhere between this world and the Other.
Marti: I know you think Alonzo isn't perfect, but I'm going to hold on to him... cause he's all I got. The wards ain't full of Jasons. What you found was quiet... in a world full of thunder. I ain't got no choice but to listen to it. You do.
George: Excuse me, sir, can I help you? Oh, Mr. Swinton, I didn't recognize you.
Stewart: I'm here to see Miss Alden, George.
George: Well, I'm afraid I'll have to call. May I ask your business with Miss Alden?
Stewart: My business is pleasure, George. Does she look like the fuck of the decade or what?
The Creature: I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.
Robert Englund: I think they'd like to see us together again.
Heather Lagenkamp: In what? A romantic-comedy?
Robert Englund: Just because it's a love story doesn't mean it can't have a decapitation or two.
Mother Abigail: "Once in every generation, the plague shall fall among them." That's what is says in the book... Seems you might have went a little far this time.
Birdie: Check this out. You ain't goin to college or any fuckin where if the Bird Man don't win. You might be on the other team, but you playin for ME. Remember that.
Pumbaa: Hey, Timon, ever wonder what those sparkly dots are up there?
Timon: Pumbaa, I don't wonder; I know.
Pumbaa: Oh. What are they?
Timon: They're fireflies. Fireflies that, uh... Got stuck up on that big bluish-black thing.
Pumbaa: Oh, gee. I always thought they were balls of gas burning billions of miles away.
Timon: Pumbaa, with you, everything's gas.
Friedrich Bhaer: I am going to the west. They need teachers and they are not so concerned about the accent.
Jo March: I don't mind it either.
Warren: When will you get it into your head that one can produce a copious, regular and exquisitely turned evacuation every day of the week and still be a stranger to reason.
Troy Dyer: I've wanted you like this for all these years.
Nicholas Earp: Remember this, all of you. Nothing counts so much as blood. The rest are just strangers.
The Judge: Deciding what is true and what isn't now seems to me...a lack of modesty.
Valentine: Vanity?
The Judge: Vanity.
Simon Wilder: Which door do I leave from?
Proffesor Pitkannan: At Harvard we don't end our sentences with prepositions.
Simon Wilder: Okay. Which door do I leave from, asshole?
Fiona: There's a sort of greatness to your lateness.
Charles: Thanks, it's not achieved without real suffering.