Uncle Vester: Whoa! My momma dead! Now I gotta cut ya! That's the rule, cut ya, cut ya.
Eamon: We could rehearse here 'cause my da's in Saint John of Gods.
Darren: Is that a pub?
Eamon: No, Darren. It's a place where alcoholics go to get off the drink, and stop beating their wives and kids.
Darren: Right.
Eamon: And neighbors.
Frank Rossi: You know why God made farts smell? So deaf people could enjoy them too.
Cynthia Hawkins: Do you steal the dresses of all singers?
Jules: No, no.
Cynthia Hawkins: So, I'M the lucky one! I have a fan?
Jules: I heard you in Bordeaux. And last year I went to Munich specially for the concert.
Cynthia Hawkins: You made the trip for me?
Jules: Yes, on the moped.
Cynthia Hawkins: On the moped. So, you ARE a real fan.
Feather Woman: Excuse me, have you seen my husband, Izaak Szerman? A tall, a tall handsome man, with a little grey beard. No? Oh, excuse me. Goodbye, sleep well. But if you see him, write to me, yes? Izaak Szerman.
Honey Horneé: Take me, Garth!
Garth Algar: Where? I'm low on gas and you need a jacket.
Honey Horneé: I'm gonna be frank.
Garth Algar: OK. Can I still be Garth?
Bride's father: Hey, pal. I'm not paying you to hear your thoughts on life. I'm paying you to sing.
Robbie: Well, I have a microphone, and you don't. SO YOU WILL LISTEN TO EVERY DAMN WORD I HAVE TO SAY!
Kevin: I am not your slave.
Gordon: We were talking about a cease fire, for Christmas Eve. What do you think? The outcome of this war won't be decided tonight. I don't think anyone would criticize us for lying down our riffles on Christmas Eve.
Kate: How many Lizzies does it take to screw in a light bulb? Hmmm, I don't know, but it only takes one to screw up a graduation.
Captain Mack: Ladies and Gentlemen, we have reached our cruising altitude of 33 thousand feet... 33 thousand feet? Oh shit, man! We fuckin' higher than Redman at the Source Awards.
American journalist: If you were to give advice to a woman, what would it be?
Edith Piaf: Love.
American journalist: To a young girl?
Edith Piaf: Love.
American journalist: To a child?
Edith Piaf: Love.
P.L. Travers: I will not have her called Cynthia, absolutely not. It feels unlucky. It should be something warm, a bit sexy. How about Mavis?
Ulysses Everett McGill: What'd the devil give you for your soul, Tommy?
Tommy Johnson: Well, he taught me to play this here guitar real good.
Delmar O'Donnell: Oh son, for that you sold your everlasting soul?
Tommy Johnson: Well, I wasn't usin' it.
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.
Melissa Henning: I've learned that suffering doesn't destroy faith, it refines it.
Muddy Waters: You and me not gonna wake up every morning and get everything we want. Mostly we got to take what come. And half the time, that's gonna be a bunch of bullshit.