[Frank offers Tanya a cigarette]
Frank Drebin: Cigarette?
Tanya Peters: Yes, I know.

Frank: It's the same old story. Boy finds girl, boy loses girl, girl finds boy, boy forgets girl, boy remembers girl, girls dies in a tragic blimp accident over the Orange Bowl on New Year's Day.
Jane: Goodyear?
Frank: No, the worst.

Cheer up, Ed. This is not goodbye. It's just I won't ever see you again.

Frank Drebin

Quentin Hapsburg: Do you gamble?
Lt. Frank Drebin: Every time I order out.

Lt. Frank Drebin: Hector Savage. From Detroit. Ex-boxer. His real name was Joey Chicago.
Ed Hocken: Oh, yeah. He fought under the name of Kid Minneapolis.
Nordberg: I saw Kid Minneapolis fight once. In Cincinnati.
Lt. Frank Drebin: No you're thinking of Kid New York. He fought out of Philly.
Ed Hocken: He was killed in the ring in Houston. By Tex Colorado. You know, the Arizona Assassin.
Nordberg: Yeah, from Dakota. I don't remember it was North or South.
Lt. Frank Drebin: North. South Dakota was his brother. From West Virginia.
Ed Hocken: You sure know your boxing.
Lt. Frank Drebin: All I know is never bet on the white guy.
[Nordberg nods in agreement]

Lt. Frank Drebin: Congratulations, Ed! I hear Edna's pregnant again.
Ed Hocken: Yeah, and when I find the guy that did it...

Jane: Would you like a nightcap?
Frank: No thank you, I don't wear them.

I've been swimming in raw sewage. I love it!

Lt. Frank Drebin

[narrating] The attempt on Nordberg's life left me shaken and disturbed, and all the questions kept coming up over and over again, like bubbles in a case of club soda. Who was this character in the hospital? And why was he trying to kill Nordberg? And for whom? Did Ludwig lie to me? I didn't have any proof, but, somehow, I didn't entirely trust him, either. Why was the I Luv You not listed in Ludwig's records? And if it was, did he know about it? And if he didn't, who did? And where the hell was I?

Frank

Frank: A good cop - needlessly cut down by some cowardly hoodlums.
Ed: No way for a man to die.
Frank: No... you're right, Ed. A parachute not opening... that's a way to die. Getting caught in the gears of a combine... having your nuts bit off by a Laplander, that's the way I wanna go.
Wilma Nordberg: [cries] Oh... Frank. This is terrible.
Ed: Don't you worry Wilma. Your husband is going to be alright. Don't you worry about anything. Just think positive. Never let a doubt enter your mind.
Frank: He's right, Wilma. But I wouldn't wait until the last minute to fill out those organ donor cards.
[Wilma cries again]
Ed: What I'm trying to say is that Wilma, as soon as Nordburg is better, he's welcome back at Police Squad.
Frank: Unless he's a drooling vegetable. But I think that's only common sense...
[Wilma cries again]

I'd known her for years. We used to go to all the police functions together. Ah, how I loved her, but she had her music. I think she had her music. She'd hang out with the Chicago Male Chorus and Symphony. I don't recall her playing an instrument or be able to carry a tune. Yet she was on the road 300 days of the year. In fact I bought her a harp for christmas. She asked me what it was.

Frank

Mayor: Now Drebin, I don't want any trouble like you had on the South Side like last year, that's my policy.
Frank: Well, when I see five weirdos dressed in togas, stabbing a man in the middle of the park in front of a full view of 100 people, I shoot the bastards, that's my policy.
Mayor: That was a Shakesphere In The Park Production of Julius Caesar, you moron! You killed five actors! Good ones!

FREE Movie Newsletter