They're going to blow that place sky high. It'll be a tragedy. Unless it's during a dance number.

Frank Drebin

Rocco Dillon: Any last words before I throw you off?
Jane Spencer: Yes. Don't do it.

Frank: It's true what they say: Cops and women don't mix. It's like eating a spoonful of Drano, sure it'll clean you out, but it'll leave you hollow inside.

Ed Hocken: You haven't shot anybody in six months.
Frank Drebin: That's true. Funny how you miss the little things.

Jane: I've heard police work is dangerous.
Frank: It is. That's why I carry a big gun.
Jane: Aren't you afraid it might go off accidentally?
Frank: I used to have that problem.
Jane: What did you do about it?
Frank: I just think about baseball.

Just think, next time I shoot someone, I could be arrested.

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!

Ed: A hunch won't stand up in court, Frank. What we need are hard facts.
Frank: Look, Ed. Ludwig was the only one besides us who knew Nordberg was still alive. Next thing you know, some thug tries to knock him off in the hospital.
Ed: Yeah, but going into Ludwig's office without a warrant, you're taking a big chance.
Frank: I know. You take a chance getting up in the morning, crossing the street or sticking your face in a fan.

Wilma, I promise you; whatever scum did this, not one man on this force will rest one minute before until he's behind bars. Now, let's grab a bite to eat

Frank

Jane, since I've met you I've noticed things that I never knew were there before; birds singing, dew glistening on a newly formed leaf, stoplights.

Frank

Frank: Interesting... Almost as interesting as the photographs I saw today.
Jane: I was young. I needed the work.

[offering a cigar]
Vincent Ludwig: Cuban?
Frank: No, Dutch-Irish. My father was from Wales.

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