Woody once risked his life to save mine, and I couldn't call myself his friend if I wasn't willing to do the same. Now who's with me?

Buzz Lightyear

Woody: Hey, w-wait, What happened? What happens next? Come on, let's see the next episode!
Stinky Pete the Prospector: That's it.
Woody: What?
Stinky Pete the Prospector: The show was cancelled after that.
Woody: Wait, wait, wait. What about the gold mine and... and the cute little critters and the dynamite? That was a great show! I mean, why cancel it?
Stinky Pete the Prospector: Two words: Sput-nik. Once the astronauts went up, children only wanted to play with space toys.
Woody: I know how that feels.

Buzz Lightyear: Good work, men. Two blocks down and only nineteen more to go.
Mr. Potato Head: What?
Rex, Hamm, Slinky Dog: Nineteen?
Mr. Potato Head: Are we gonna do this all night? My parts are killing me.
Buzz Lightyear: Come on, fellas. Did Woody give up when Sid had me strapped to a rocket?
Rex, Hamm, Mr. Potato Head, Slinky Dog: No.
Buzz Lightyear: No. And did he give up when you threw him out of the back of that moving van?
Mr. Potato Head: Oh, you had to bring *that* up!
Buzz Lightyear: No, he didn't! We have a friend in need, and we're not going to rest until he's safe in Andy's room! Now, let's move out!

Alien toys: Strangers! From the outside! Ooooh!
Buzz Lightyear: Oh, not this again...

Yo lunchbox, hurry it up.

Jay

Y'know, I don't get you, Justice. You used to be into all this girl stuff. Stealing, boning, blowing shit up, and now you're like this little priss with a conscience. It's really a fucking drag.

Sissy

I am the master of the C.L.I.T. Remember this fucking face. Whenever you see C.L.I.T., you'll see this fucking face. I make that shit work. It does whatever the fuck I tell it to. No one rules the C.L.I.T like me. Not this little fuck.

Jay

Raoul Duke: We were somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like: I feel a bit lightheaded. Maybe you should drive.

Holden: If the buzz is any indicator, that movie's gonna make some huge bank.
Jay: What buzz?
Holden: The Internet buzz.
Jay: What the fuck is the Internet?
Holden: The Internet is a communication tool used the world over where people can come together to bitch about movies and share pornography with one another.

Banky: Stop the movie? What are you, crazy?
Jay: All these assholes on the internet are calling us names because of this stupid fucking movie.
Banky: That's what the internet is for. Slandering others anonymously. Stopping the flick isn't gonna stop that.
Jay: This isn't fair. We came to Hollywood, I fell in love. Fuckin', we got shot at, we stole a monkey, and I got punched in the motherfucking nuts by a guy named Cock-Knocker.
Banky: You know what? I feel for you boys, I really do, but Miramax - you know, Miramax Films - paid me a shitload of money for Bluntman and Chronic. So it occurs to me that people badmouthing you on some website, is NONE OF MY FUCKING CONCERN.
Silent Bob: Oh, but I think it is... We had a deal with you, on the comics remember, for likeness rights, and as we're not only the artistic basis, but also obviously the character basis, for your intellectual property, Bluntman and Chronic. When said property was optioned by Miramax Films, you were legally obliged to secure our permission to transfer the concept to another medium. As you failed to do that, Banky, you are in breach of the original contract, ergo you find yourself in a very actionable position.
Jay: Yeah.

Holy Jesus. What are these goddamn animals?

Raoul Duke

[in the mail room] It's just like Santa's workshop! Except it smells like mushrooms... and everyone looks like they wanna hurt me.

Buddy

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