Patrick Bateman: I think, um, Evelyn that, uh, we've lost touch.
Evelyn Williams: Why? What's wrong?
Patrick Bateman: I need to engage in homicidal behaviour on a massive scale can not be corrected but, uh, I have no other way to fulfill my needs.
Donnie: I asked her that myself one time. She said I was the only man in town that knew how to fuck.
David: You're disgusting.
Sidney: God why don't stop your whining and get on with it. I've heard all this shit before.
Roman: Stop.
Sidney: Do you know why you kill people Roman? Do you?
Roman: I don't want to hear it.
Sidney: Because you choose to. There is no-one else to blame.
Roman: Damnit fucking damnit.
Sidney: Why don't you take some fucking responsibility?
Roman: Fuck you.
Sidney: Fuck you.
Richard B. Riddick: Not for me! Not for me.
Sebastian: I can't take much more testing.
Matt: I know how hard it is.
Sebastian: Bullshit. You don't know anything.
Matt: This isn't easy for any of us.
Sebastian: Fuck you, Matt! It is easy for you. I was to be in phase-shift for three days. It's been ten fucking days, all right? Ten days of tissue tests, radiation tests and your fucking needles! I can't fucking take it anymore.
Matt: What I meant was.
Sebastian: Fuck what you meant! And don't ever... Don't ever tell me how hard you have it.
F.W. Murnau: Why him, you monster? Why not the... script girl?
Max Schreck: Oh. The script girl. I'll eat her later.
Trina Sinclair: Hey, why don't you get your slut-bitch sister a leash.
Teenager #3: Hey Elvira, I've got something you can suck the blood outta.
Kim: Oh yeah? Whip it out.
Tony: Bed for the undead?
Meier Link: She is here by her own choice, dunpeal. So unless you're the kind of man who would take a woman against her will for the money in it - and I am sure it's a lot - I suggest you save your sorry ass now and leave us to travel in peace.
D: I would if I could believe you, Meier. Your credibility, however, is less than impeccable under the circumstances. You kidnapped the girl.
Faust: I am the pornography that gets you hot!
Berdine: They look like beatniks, should I unpack my bongos?
Marvel Ann: I intend to unpack mine.
Duncan McKay: That's from, like, an ostrich or something.
Hubs: Or a beaver.
Killer Flight Attendant: Young man, that woman's acting would be wretched in a porno film.
Dr. Anton Rudolph: You have no idea what you're up against.
Bart Parker: You don't know my men.
Dr. Anton Rudolph: This is not some garden snake you're going after. We are talking about a perfect killing machine. A 129-foot all-terrain vehicle capable of speeds exceeding 50 miles an hour with skin that can deflect an antitank round, enhanced night vision and a voracious appetite for human flesh. It will slaughter your men before they have a chance to blink.
John Townsend: God will forgive me. The transformation is near.
Leonard Marliston: We have the same colour eyes.
Sheriff Brent Marken: No.
Leonard Marliston: Dad.
Sheriff Brent Marken: No... no... no.
Pinhead: It's all a puzzle, isn't it, Joseph? Like a game of chess, perhaps. The pieces move, apparently aimlessly, but always towards one single objective: to kill the king. But who is the king in this game, Joseph? That is the question you must ask yourself.