Heroin had robbed Renton of his sex drive, but now it returned with a vengeance. And as the impotence of those days faded into memory, grim desperation took hold of his sex-crazed mind. His post-junk libido, fuelled by alcohol and amphetamine, taunted him remorselessly with his own unsatisfied desire.

Mark "Rent-boy" Renton

Begbie: Picture the scene: The other fuckin' week there, doin' the fuckin' Volley with Tommy, playing pool. I'm playing like Paul-Fuckin'-Newman by the way. Givin' the boy here the tannin' of a lifetime. So it comes to there, during the last shot, the deciding ball of the whole tournament. I'm on the black and he's sittin' in the corner looking all fuckin' biscuit-arsed. When this hard cunt comes in. Obviously fuckin' fancied himself, like. Starts staring at me. Lookin' at me, right fuckin' at me, as if to say, "Come ahead, square go." You ken me, I'm not the type of cunt that goes looking for fuckin' bother, like, but at the end of the day I'm the cunt with a pool cue and he can get the fat end in his puss any time he fucking wanted like. So I squares up, casual like. What does the hard cunt do? Or the so-called hard cunt? Shites it. Puts down his drink, turns, and gets the fuck out of there. And after that, well, the game was mine.

Living like this is a full-time business.

Mark "Rent-boy" Renton

Mark "Rent-boy" Renton: [narrating] Heroin makes you constipated. The heroin from my last hit was fading, and the suppositories had yet to melt.
[moans loudly, doubles over]
Mark "Rent-boy" Renton: I'm no longer constipated.

Tommy: Useless motherfucker, that's what she called me. I told her, I'm sorry, but these things happen. Let's put it behind us.
Spud: That's fair enough.
Tommy: Yes, but then she finds out I've bought a ticket for Iggy Pop the same night.
Spud: Went ballistic?
Tommy: Big time. Absolutely fucking radge. 'It's me or Iggy Pop, time to decide.'
Spud: So what's it going to be?
Tommy: Well, I've paid for the ticket.

[considering the heroin deal after Tommy's funeral] Two kilos. What's that, about ten years? Mikey Forrester, Russian sailors, what the fuck are you boys on, eh?

Mark "Rent-boy" Renton

You could always get the truth from Tommy. That was one of his major weaknesses. He never told lies, he never took drugs, and he never cheated on anyone.

Mark "Rent-boy" Renton

Begbie didn't do drugs either. He just did people.

Mark "Rent-boy" Renton

Begbie: Did you bring the cards?
Sick Boy: What?
Begbie: The cards, the last thing I told you was to mind the cards!
Sick Boy: Well, I've not brought them.
Begbie: It's fucking boring after a while without the cards.
Sick Boy: I'm sorry.
Begbie: Bit fucking late, like.
Sick Boy: Why didn't *you* bring them?
Begbie: 'CAUSE I FUCKING TOLD YOU TO BRING THEM, YOU DOSS CUNT!
Sick Boy: ...Christ.

Ursula Andress, the quintessential Bond girl. That's what everyone says. The embodiment of his superiority over us. Beautiful, exotic, highly sexual and totally unavaiable to anyone apart from him. Shite. Let's face it. She can shag one punter from Edinburgh, she'd shag the whole lot of us.

Sick Boy

I don't feel the sickness yet, but it's in the post. That's for sure. I'm in the junkie limbo at the moment. Too ill to sleep. Too tired to stay awake, but the sickness is on its way. Sweat, chills, nausea. Pain and craving. A need like nothing else I've ever known will soon take hold of me. It's on its way.

Mark "Rent-boy" Renton

Swanney taught us to adore and respect the national health service. For it was the source of much of our gear. We stole drugs. We stole prescriptions or bought them, sold them, swapped them, forged them, photocopied them. Or traded drugs with cancer victims, alcoholics, old-age pensioners, AIDS patients, epileptics, and bored housewives.

Mark "Rent-boy" Renton

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Trainspotting Quotes

Phew! I haven't felt that good since Archie Gemmill scored against Holland in 1978!

Mark "Rent-boy" Renton

Begbie: Did you bring the cards?
Sick Boy: What?
Begbie: The cards, the last thing I told you was to mind the cards!
Sick Boy: Well, I've not brought them.
Begbie: It's fucking boring after a while without the cards.
Sick Boy: I'm sorry.
Begbie: Bit fucking late, like.
Sick Boy: Why didn't *you* bring them?
Begbie: 'CAUSE I FUCKING TOLD YOU TO BRING THEM, YOU DOSS CUNT!
Sick Boy: ...Christ.