Peggy: It's nice to have a word that can describe you. I've never had that before.
Feng: Ladies and Gentlemen. Athletes. I bid you Toodles.
Gust Avrakotos: You know, me and three other guys are killing Russians. Is it possible that I met the only elected official in town who can help me?
Detective Mercer: How did you... pull it back together after what happened to you?
Erica: You don't.
Detective Mercer: I'm sorry.
Erica: No, no.
Detective Mercer: Jacked-up question, man.
Erica: It's a fair question. You... you become someone else. A stranger.
Annabelle Fritton: Daddy, you can't expect me to stay here, it's like Hogwarts for Pikeys!
Cam Wexler: Shit! Shit shit shit... pardon my French.
Charlie: I speak a little French and that sounded like "shit."
Nancy Drew: I wonder who tried to kill us?
Corky: Yeah, I'm wondering that too. In fact, I'm kind of freaking out about it.
Justin: You can't fight what we had together.
Martha: Justin, it was one night, it was a massive mistake. I was drunk out of my mind, you could've been a donkey!
Carter Chambers: Edward Perryman Cole died in May. It was a Sunday in the afternoon and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. He was 81 years old. Even now, I can't claim to understand the measure of a life, but I can tell you this: I know that when he died, his eyes were closed and his heart was open, and I'm pretty sure he was happy with his final resting place because he was buried on the mountain, and that was against the law.
Detective Remy Bressant: If you see me comin' you better run cause I'm gonna lay you the fuck down.
Tom Lefroy: Was I deficient in rapture?
Jane Austen: Inconsciousness.
Tom Lefroy: It was... It was accomplished.
Jane Austen: It was ironic.
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.
Detective Inspector Black: Do you want to know my opinion of the newspapers?
Andrew Wyke: What?
Detective Inspector Black: Journalists are a bunch of prick-teasing cocksuckers.
Andrew Wyke: No.
Detective Inspector Black: That's right.
Andrew Wyke: I'm sorry, but isn't that a contradiction in terms?
Andrew Wyke: Is it?