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!
Romeo Posar: Now THAT was a defining moment. And the definition was "shit."
Trent: I don't want you to be the guy in the PG-13 movie everyone's *really* hoping makes it happen. I want you to be like the guy in the rated R movie, you know, the guy you're not sure whether or not you like yet. You're not sure where he's coming from. Okay? You're a bad man.
John Proctor: It is not on a boat we'll meet again Abigail, but in hell.
Romeo: Why then, O brawling love, O loving hate, O anything, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!
Marge Gunderson: So that was Mrs. Lundegaard on the floor in there. And I guess that was your accomplice in the wood chipper.
Paul Castellano: Johnny's problem is that he's a street Neapolitan, huh? Always scheming. Worse than the Sicilians.
Rose Morgan: I don't feel anything, isn't that great! I never thought about how I would feel, I only ever thought about you. I only wanted to make you happy, I never thought I was good enough for you.
Alex: Oh but you are good enough for me, Rose, you are.
Rose Morgan: I know, I know, but Alex, you're not good enough for me.
Sport: You can't be my friend if you're not my friend.
Robert Doob: What are you gonna do? Shoot me?
Karen McCann: You broke into my house with the intent to do me bodily harm. The law says I have the right to protect myself.
Robert Doob: What? You want me to say I'm sorry? It could have been anybody. I don't even remember what she looked like. It's nothing personal.
Karen McCann: She was seventeen years old. She was five-foot two. She had brown eyes. Her name was Julie. She was my daughter.
Robert Doob: She was a great f-f-f-fuck.