'Colonel' Tom Parker: Let's face it, son. The records aren't doing what they used to and the movie aren't doing much better.
Elvis Presley: That's probably because of all this material you keep shovin' down my throat, Colonel. Hell, you can't polish a turd.
Goddess Manshen: Once you have accepted your destiny, nothing can alter it unless time flows backwards, snow falls in the spring, and the dead come back to life.
Kim: This is what happens when a rocket scientist and a brain surgeon reproduce.
Opal: Music is better if someone's listening.
Adam: I may be damaged goods, but I'm goods none the less.
Cece: Grandma saved souls. Murderers, sadists. The most vile men. She milked them of evil.
Eden Sinclair: What was in that suitcase, Cece?
Cece: Every soul that she ever milked was inside that suitcase. So if those snakes got set free, and they killed Ray, the evil of countless souls are inside him right now, possesing his body.
Narrator: When you're a gay man, you have to feel good about yourself when a urologist says, 'Yeah. I pick you.'.
Isabelle Sorenson: You can kiss my self esteem butt, Donald Duck. Why tell your life story, and tell only the good parts?
Donald Morton: It's Donald Morton.
Isabelle Sorenson: You're missing my point.
Donald Morton: No I'm not! I just - never know what to say.
Alexsie Kutchinov: We have a saying in my country - don't blame the baker, when the butcher bakes the bread.
John Tuliver: What the hell does that mean?
Alexsie Kutchinov: It means you're fucked.
Aline Cedrac: I thought you were dead, asshole.
Cousin Bo: I wanna buzz your butt.
Jonathan Cold: You see, in this business... the keys to the kingdom is weapons-grade plutonium. If you ain't got that, you ain't got shit.
Radio Locust: It's 6am in the Bolivarian Republic of Marijuana. Let's listen some music while we call one of our herbal therapists.
Ray Porter: When I'm in New York next week, I decided to look for an apartment there.
Mirabelle: To move there?
Ray Porter: Just a place to stay while I'm there. No more luggage. Whoo-hoo.
Mirabelle: Like a crash pad. You lucky mister.
Ray Porter: Actually, I'll look for a three-bedroom in case I meet someone and have kids.
The Penguin: Agh! Dead guys don't do that.
Dracula: Not dead... UN-dead.
The Penguin: I think I need to UN-wet my pants.
Diane Petersen: You're tearing this family apart.
Graham Martin: Oliver, this is your life. You can't wait for it to just to get you up on your feet.