Elwood: I bet these cops got SCMODS.
Jake: SCMODS?
Elwood: State County Municipal Offender Data System.

Elwood: This is definitely Lower Wacker Drive! If my estimations are correct, we should be very close to the Honorable Richard J. Daley Plaza!
Jake: That's where they got that Picasso.
Elwood: Yep.

Elwood: It's 106 miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses.
Jake: Hit it.

Jake: Book us for tomorrow night.
Maury Sline: Hold it, hold it. Tomorrow night? What are you talking about? A gig like that, you gotta prepare the proper exploitation.
Elwood: I know all about that stuff. I have been exploited all my life.

Murph: Tell me a little about this electric piano, Ray.
Ray: Ah, you have a good eye, my man. That's the best in the city of Chicago.
Jake: How much?
Ray: 2,000 bucks and it's yours. You can take it home with you. As a matter of fact, I'll throw in the black keys for free.

Matt Murphy: But babes, this is Jake and Elwood. The Blues Brothers.
Mrs. Murphy: The Blues Brothers? Shiiit! They still owe you money, fool. You're livin' with me now. You ain't goin' back out on the road and playin' them old two-bit sleazy dives, and y'ain't gonna go slidin' around witcho ol' white hoodlum friends.
Jake: Ma'am, would it make you feel any better if we told you that what we're asking Matthew to do is a holy thing?
Elwood: We're on a mission from God.
Mrs. Murphy: Don't you blaspheme in here! Don't you blaspheme in here! This is my man, this is my restaurant, and you two are gonna turn around and walk right out of here - without your dry white toast, without your four fried chickens, and without Matt 'Guitar' Murphy!

Elwood: Baby clothes...
Jake: This place has got everything.

Jake: First you traded the Cadillac in for a microphone. Then you lied to me about the band. And now you're gonna put me right back in the joint!
Elwood: They're not gonna catch us. We're on a mission from God.

Elwood: Shit.
Jake: What?
Elwood: Rollers...
Jake: No.
Elwood: Yeah.
Jake: Shit.

Jake: You were outside, I was inside. You were supposed to keep in touch with the band. I kept asking you if we were gonna play again.
Elwood: What was I gonna do? Take away your only hope? Take away the very thing that kept you going in there? I took the liberty of bullshitting you.
Jake: You lied to me.
Elwood: Wasn't lies, it was just... bullshit.

Jake: Five grand? No problem, we'll have it for you in the morning. Let's go, Elwood.
Sister Mary Stigmata: No, no! I will not take your filthy stolen money!
Jake: Well then... I guess you're really up Shit Creek.
Sister Mary Stigmata: I beg your pardon, what did you say?
Jake: I offered to help you... You refused to take our money. Then I said: I guess you're really up Shit Creek.
Elwood: Christ, Jake. Take it easy man.

Curtis: Well, the Sister was right. You boys could use a little churching up. Slide on down to the Triple Rock, and catch Rev. Cleophus. You boys listen to what he's got to say.
Jake: Curtis, I don't want to listen to no jive-ass preacher talking to me about Heaven and Hell.
Curtis: Jake, you get wise. You get to church.

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