Rusty Ryan: Are you all right?
Danny Ocean: Yeah, um, I just bit into a red pepper.
Rusty Ryan: Is that... Are you... Are you watching Oprah?
Lenny: You may find this hard to believe, but most of the guys here don't have a lot of experience with girls.
Lars Lindstrom: I was hoping winter was over.
Margo: No, it's just a thaw - winter isn't over till Easter.
Nick Persons: You're the local real estate guy.
Chuck Mitchell, Jr.: I'm also the local contractor.
God: Let me ask you something. If someone prays for patience, you think God gives them patience? Or does he give them the opportunity to be patient? If he prayed for courage, does God give him courage, or does he give him opportunities to be courageous? If someone prayed for the family to be closer, do you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings, or does he give them opportunities to love each other?
Annie Braddock: There's a common belief among anthropologists that you must immerse yourself in an unfamiliar world in order to truly understand your own.
Dewey Cox: Edith, I am starting to think... that maybe you don't believe in me.
Edith: I do believe in you. I just know you're gonna fail.
Brendan: Why are your eyes so red?
Francis: Why is your head so bald?
Michelangelo: Dudes, did anyone get the license plate number of that thing that hit us last night? Man, my head.
Donatello: Okay, that was just weird, first the Foot, then that hideous monster,.
Michelangelo: Yeah, it looked like your mom, dude.
Donatello: Yeah, that would make her your mom too, dufus.
Michelangelo: Whatever.
Rod Kimble: Have fun being married to satan.
Melanie 'Mel' Whitfield: So, technically, you slept with Santa?
Kelli Whitfield: Well, I didn't know he was Santa at the time... but technically, I guess I did.
Melanie 'Mel' Whitfield: Well, ho, ho, ho.
Alvin: I feel like P. Diddy with fur.
Dudley Frank: What'd you do, Woody?
Woody Stevens: I cut the gas lines of their bikes, and then I maybe blew up their bar.
Edward Cole: Three things to remember when you get older: never pass up a bathroom, never waste a hard-on, and never trust a fart.
Thomas: I'll keep that in mind as I approach decrepitude.
Dean Solomon: So... you're a janitor?
James: That's right. I'm a black man so I must be a janitor. Motherfucking racist-ass stereotyper.
Dean Solomon: It's just, you're... wearing a janitor's outfit.
James: Oh. So a black man can't just go in a thrift shop and buy a janitor's outfit 'cause he find it comfortable on his nuts.
Dean Solomon: No, he can. Especially a black man.
John Solomon: What do you do?
James: I'm a janitor.