Rusty Ryan: Are you all right?
Danny Ocean: Yeah, um, I just bit into a red pepper.
Rusty Ryan: Is that... Are you... Are you watching Oprah?
Melanie 'Mel' Whitfield: So, technically, you slept with Santa?
Kelli Whitfield: Well, I didn't know he was Santa at the time... but technically, I guess I did.
Melanie 'Mel' Whitfield: Well, ho, ho, ho.
Carter Chambers: Edward Perryman Cole died in May. It was a Sunday in the afternoon and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. He was 81 years old. Even now, I can't claim to understand the measure of a life, but I can tell you this: I know that when he died, his eyes were closed and his heart was open, and I'm pretty sure he was happy with his final resting place because he was buried on the mountain, and that was against the law.
Gust Avrakotos: You know, me and three other guys are killing Russians. Is it possible that I met the only elected official in town who can help me?
Walter Lewis: You get that right and I'll feed you paedophiles, dealers, bullies, junkies, scum, cunts, dogs... the lot.
Sandra: Tea can do many things, Jane, but it can't bring back the dead.
Dean Solomon: So... you're a janitor?
James: That's right. I'm a black man so I must be a janitor. Motherfucking racist-ass stereotyper.
Dean Solomon: It's just, you're... wearing a janitor's outfit.
James: Oh. So a black man can't just go in a thrift shop and buy a janitor's outfit 'cause he find it comfortable on his nuts.
Dean Solomon: No, he can. Especially a black man.
John Solomon: What do you do?
James: I'm a janitor.
Detective Inspector Black: Do you want to know my opinion of the newspapers?
Andrew Wyke: What?
Detective Inspector Black: Journalists are a bunch of prick-teasing cocksuckers.
Andrew Wyke: No.
Detective Inspector Black: That's right.
Andrew Wyke: I'm sorry, but isn't that a contradiction in terms?
Andrew Wyke: Is it?
Trina: I'm sure she's fine.
Angela: Trick, was anybody talking to you?
Trina: Trick?
Angela: Yes, trick. As in slut, whore, tramp. You don't know your name?
Sylvester: Payback's a bitch, ain't it?
Zeke: I'll see you at Nationals.
Sylvester: Yes you will.
Billy Darly: Look at you. You look like one of us. Look what I made you.
Dr. Samuel Loomis: I really don't know what else to say, Michael. You haven't said a word for fifteen years! Christ, that's a lifetime. That's nearly twice as long as my first marriage. Wow. It's strange, Michael. In a weird way you've become like... like my best friend. Huh! That just shows you how fucked up my life is. I've done all I possibly can for you, so I'm sorry to tell you that this is going to be my last day. Michael, I have to move on. I'm sorry.
Annabelle Fritton: Daddy, you can't expect me to stay here, it's like Hogwarts for Pikeys!
Feng: Ladies and Gentlemen. Athletes. I bid you Toodles.
Sylvia Likens: She sacrificed me to protect her children, and she sacrificed her children to protect herself.
Pinbacker: At the end of time, a moment will come when just one man remains. Then the moment will pass. Man will be gone. There will be nothing to show that we were ever here... But stardust.
Tom Lefroy: Was I deficient in rapture?
Jane Austen: Inconsciousness.
Tom Lefroy: It was... It was accomplished.
Jane Austen: It was ironic.
Cam Wexler: Shit! Shit shit shit... pardon my French.
Charlie: I speak a little French and that sounded like "shit."