Jay: Guys like us just don't fall out of the fucking sky, you know.
[Rufus falls out of the sky]
Jay: Beautiful, naked, big-titted women just don't fall out of the sky, you know.
Jay: All right, but let's say we're caught in a situation where we've got like five minutes to live, like a bomb or something is gonna go off. Would you fuck us then?
Bethany: In that highly unlikely situation? Yeah, sure.
Jay: She's a slut. Bunnnng.
Rufus: You are the great great great great great GREAT great grand-niece ... of Jesus Christ.
Jay: So that would make Bethany... part black?
Bethany: What are you doing?
Jay: Proving to this bastard I ain't gay.
Rufus: Long story, forget it.
Jay: So what's up? You got a friend for Silent Bob, or are you just gonna do us both? If so, I'm first. I hate sloppy seconds.
Bethany: You're a man of principle.
Rufus: You know what the dead do with most of their time? They watch the living. Especially in the shower.
Jay: I can't wait to die.
I feel like I'm Han Solo, and you're Chewie, and she's Ben Kenobi, and we're in that fucked-up bar.
Bethany: Then - I don't mean to sound ungrateful - but what are you doing hanging around?
Jay: We're here to pick up chicks.
Bethany: Excuse me?
Jay: We figure an abortion clinic is a good place to meet loose women. Why else would they be there unless they like to fuck?
Jay: Get offa me. I wanna see what's up. What the fuck is this shit? Who the fuck are you, lady? Why the fuck did you hug my head?
Metatron: Quite a little mouth on him, isn't there?
Jay: What the fuck is this, The Piano? Why ain't this broad talking?
Metatron: I believe the answers that you seek lie within my companion's eyes.
Jay: What the fuck does that mean? Has everyone gone fuckin' nuts? What the fuck happened to that guy's head? I want some...
[God kisses him on the cheek. Jay faints]
Bethany: McHenry is pretty far from Jersey, might I ask what brings you guys to Illinois?
Jay: Some fuck named John Hughes.
Bethany: "16 Candles" John Hughes?
Jay: You know him too? That fucking guy.
Jay: If today is Tuesday and the movie starts filming on Friday, we have... eight days.
Holden: Uh, three by my count, but close.
Jay: Right. My bad. Three days to stop that fucking movie from getting made. Come on, Silent Bob. We're going to Hollywood!
And I can't believe fine-ass bitches like yourselves eat that shit. Don't you know fast food makes girls fart?