Pulp Fiction (1994)

[Winston Wolf takes exception to Vincent's taking exception to his brusque manner] Winston Wolf: So, pretty please - with sugar on top ... clean the fuckin' car!

Jimmie: I can't believe this is the same car! Winston Wolf: Well, let's not start sucking each other's dicks just yet.

Vincent Vega: Bacon tastes gooood. Pork chops taste gooood.

Vincent Vega: Jules, if you give that fuckin' nimrod fifteen hundred dollars, I'm gonna shoot him on general principles.

Jules: We're all gonna be three little Fonzies - and what was Fonzie?! Yolanda: Cool? Jules: Correct-a-mundo!

Butch Coolidge: Will you hand me a towel, tulip? Fabienne: Ah, I like that. I like tulip. Tulip is much better than mongoloid.

Marsellus: In the fifth, your ass goes down. Say it. Butch Coolidge: In the fifth, my ass goes down.

Mia: I do believe Marsellus Wallace, my husband, your boss, told you to take ME out and do WHATEVER I WANTED. I wanna dance, I wanna win. I want that trophy, so dance good.

The Wolf: That's thirty minutes away. I'll be there in ten.

Jules: Normally, both of you would be dead as fucking fried chicken by now, but since I'm in a transitional period, I don't want to kill either one of your asses.

Jimmie: Well, the thing on my mind right now isn't the good coffee in my cup, it's the dead nigger in my garage.

Jules: Whether or not what we experienced was an According to Hoyle miracle is irrelevant. What is relevant is that I felt the touch of God. God got involved.

Jimmie: I'm gonna get divorced. No marriage counselling, no trial separation, divorced.

Honey Bunny: Any of you fuckin' pricks move, and I'll execute every mother fuckin' last one of ya.

Vincent: We should have shotguns for this.

Butch Coolidge: You okay? Marcellus: No. I'm pretty fuckin' far from being okay.

Jules: Whoa... whoa... whoa... stop right there. Eatin' a bitch out, and givin' a bitch a foot massage ain't even the same fuckin' thing. Vincent: Not the same thing, the same ballpark. Jules: It ain't no ballpark either. Look maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but touchin' his lady's feet, and stickin' your tongue in her holyiest of holies, ain't the same ballpark, ain't the same league, ain't even the same fuckin' sport. Foot massages don't mean shit. Vincent: Have you ever given a foot massage? Jules: Don't be tellin' me about foot massages - I'm the foot fuckin' master. Vincent: Given a lot of 'em? Jules: Shit yeah. I got my technique down man, I don't tickle or nothin'. Vincent: Have you ever given a guy a foot massage? Jules: Fuck you. Vincent: How many? Jules: Fuck you. Vincent: Would you give me a foot massage? I'm kinda tired. Jules: Man, you best back off, I'm gittin' pissed.

Jules: Check out the big brain on Brett!

Jules: What does Marcellus Wallace look like? Brett: What? Jules: [pointing his gun] Say "what" again. SAY "WHAT" AGAIN! I dare you, I double dare you, motherfucker! Say "what" one more goddamn time! Brett: He's b-b-black... Jules: Go on. Brett: He's bald... Jules: Does he look like a bitch? Brett: What? [Jules shoots Brett in shoulder] Jules: DOES HE LOOK LIKE A BITCH? Brett: NO! Jules: Then why you trying to fuck him like a bitch, Brett? Brett: I didn't! Jules: Yes you did. Yes you did, Brett. You tried to fuck him. And Marcellus Wallace don't like to be fucked by anybody, except Mrs. Wallace.

[Jules shoots the guy on the couch during Brett's interrogation] Jules: Oh, I'm sorry. Did I break your concentration?

Marcellus: No one needs to know about this except you, me and Mr.-soon-to-be-living-the-rest-of-his-short-ass-life-in-agonizing -pain-rapist here.

Vincent Vega: That's a pretty fucking good milkshake. I don't know if it's worth five dollars but it's pretty fucking good.

[Marcellus is telling Butch to take a dive.] Marcellus: The night of the fight, you may feel a slight sting. That's pride fucking with you. Fuck pride. Pride only hurts, it never helps.

[Ezekiel 25:17 among others] Jules: The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee.

[Vincent Vega goes up to Butch at the bar] Butch Coolidge: What're you looking at, friend? Vincent Vega: I ain't your friend, palooka. Butch Coolidge: What did you say? Vincent Vega: I think you heard me just fine, punchy.

[After a long pause in their conversation] Mia Wallace: Don't you hate that? Vincent Vega: Hate what? Mia Wallace: Uncomfortable silences.

Mia: Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to become comfortable?

Lance: You're going to give her an injection of adrenaline directly to her heart. Vincent: Then what happens? Lance: I'm curious about that myself.

Marcellus: I'm prepared to scour the the Earth for that motherfucker. If Butch goes to Indochina, I want a nigger waiting in a bowl of rice ready to pop a cap in his ass.

Butch Coolidge: I think I have a broken rib. Fabienne: From giving me oral pleasure?

Fabienne: Whose motorcycle is this? Butch Coolidge: It's a chopper, baby. Fabienne: Whose chopper is this? Butch Coolidge: It's Zed's. Fabienne: Who's Zed? Butch Coolidge: Zed's dead, baby. Zed's dead.

Jimmie: Now let me ask you a question, Jules. When you drove in here, did you notice a sign out in front that said, "Dead nigger storage"? Jules: Jimmie... Jimmie: Answer the question! Did you see a sign out in front of my house that said "Dead nigger storage"? Jules: Naw man, I didn't. Jimmie: You know why you didn't see that sign? Jules: Why? Jimmie: 'Cause storin' dead niggers ain't my fuckin' business!

Jules: I don't wanna hear about no motherfuckin' ifs. All I wanna hear from yo' ass is, "You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the motherfucker. Go back in there, chill them niggaz out and wait for the calvery which should be coming directly." Marcellus: You ain't got no problem Jules. I'm on the moterfucker. Go back in there, chill them niggaz out and wait for the Wolf who should be coming directly.

Jules: Yolanda, I thought you were gonna be cool. When you yell at me, it makes me nervous. When I get nervous, I get scared. And when motherfuckers get scared, that's when motherfuckers get accidentally shot.

Jules Winnfield: Hand me my wallet. Pumpkin: Which one is it? Jules Winnfield: It's the one with "bad motherfucker" written on it.

Jules Winnfield: If my answers frighten you then you should cease asking scary questions.

Winston Wolf: You guys look like... What do they look like, Jimmie? Jimmie: Dorks. They look like a couple of dorks. Jules Winnfield: Ha-ha-ha. They're your clothes, motherfucker.

Lance: Look, you brought her here, and that means that you're giving her the shot. The day that I bring an OD-ing bitch over to your house, then I'll give her the shot.

Winston Wolf: You see that, young lady? Respect. Respect for one's elders gives character. Raquel: I have character. Winston Wolf: Just because you are a character doesn't mean that you have character.

Butch: That's how you're gonna beat 'em, Butch. They keep underestimating you.

Zed: Bring out the Gimp. Maynard: But the Gimp's sleeping. Zed: Well, I guess you better go and wake him up then.

Jules: Hey, that's cool and the gang!