Don't laugh! There's nothin' funny goin' on here!

Derek Vinyard

Steven: Can I get a knife or fork?
Wench: There were no utensils in medieval times, hence there are no utensils AT Medieval Times. Would you like a refill on that Pepsi?
Steven: There were no utensils but there was Pepsi?
Wench: Dude, I got a lot of tables.

DJ Iz: That's why brothers need to sign themselves a deal. I'm telling you record labels supply niggers with the kind of benefits they need.
Sol: Dawg. We sign us a deal you can take the motherfucking benefits, we're talking Bentley's and Benjamins not Blue Cross and Blue Shield.
Future: Look to tell you all niggers the truth, I don't give a fuck about none of that. I just wanna hit 31 and a 3rd on the box you know what I'm saying? One of them strong songs on JLB.
DJ Iz: No what we need to do is save that shit up and put it into some savings bonds every week, stack it and build our own studio.
Future: Savings Bonds?

You're a disgrace to depression.

Melvin Udall

Ron: I reckon you'd have to be barking mad to enter your own name in the Goblet of Fire.
Harry: Caught on, have you? Took you long enough.

The Shoveller: Doctor, you *are* a genius.
Dr. Heller: That's what the card says.

Rip Reed: Hey man. That's not yours.
"Pistol" Pete Deeks: [to Hollis] Put the fucking rabbit down!
Rip Reed: Appreciate it man, get your dick beaters off it.

You're my meal ticket Marty. If you leave it's just me and Barry in a room and I'm trying to explain what the hell it is I do around here.

Michael Clayton

She was the Picasso of passive-aggressive karate.

Irving Rosenfeld

Did you notice anything weird a minute ago?

Rhonda LeBeck

Hans Gruber: Mister Mystery Guest? Are you still there?
John McClane: Yeah, I'm still here. Unless you wanna open the front door for me.
Hans Gruber: Uh, no I'm afraid not. But you have me at a loss. You know my name but who are you? Just another American who saw too many movies as a child? Another orphan of a bankrupt culture who thinks he's John Wayne? Rambo? Marshall Dillon?
John McClane: Was always kinda' partial to Roy Rogers actually. I really dig those sequined shirts.

Opal: [In an automobile junkyard] I'm wandering in a graveyard. The dead here have no crosses, nor tombstones, nor wreaths to sing of their past glory, but lie in rotting, decaying, rusty heaps, their innards ripped out by greedy, vulturous hands. Their vast, vacant skeletons... sadly sighing to the sky. The rust on their bodies... is the color of dried blood. Dried blood. I'm reminded of... of an elephant's secret burial ground. Yes. Cette aire de mystère. Cette essence de I'irréel. These cars are trying to communicate. O cars, are you trying to tell me something? Are you trying to convey to me some secret...
Kenny Fraiser: What... Excuse me?
Opal: Oh, excuse me! I thought I was completely alone. How embarrassing. Oh, you're a musician!

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