Walter Sparrow: I could have died there on the street, but that wouldn't have been justice. At least not the justice fathers teach their sons.
Pablo Sandoval: A guy can change anything. His face, his home, his family, his girlfriend, his religion, his God. But there's one thing he can't change. He can't change his passion.
David Mills: You're no messiah. You're a movie of the week. You're a fucking t-shirt, at best.
Randall: People who are always right make me sick.
Fidgit: That's why you get along with yourself so well.
Chief Gillespie: What do they call you up there?
Virgil Tibbs: They call me MISTER Tibbs!
David Mann: I'd like to report a truck driver who's been endangering my life.
Hoffman: You wanna know the only thing that's wrong with killing you, Jill? I can only do it once.
Clark: I dunno what the hell's in there, but it's weird and pissed off, whatever it is.
Agent Katherine Cowles: Dr. Clancy, before we go upstairs, with all due respect, I don't hold an ounce of confidence in the paranormal in general. I think it's a sham. I hope that's okay.
John Clancy: No problem at all. I feel the same about shrinks. After only one thing, your money. They'll take your whole hand.
Agent Katherine Cowles: Whoever said that has obviously never met a good one.
John Clancy: It was Sigmund Freud.
Chandler Jarrell: I don't know, maybe he cut himself shaving and bled to death looking for a kleenex.
Sergeant Howie: What religion can they possibly be learning jumping over bonfires?
Lord Summerisle: Parthenogenesis.
Sergeant Howie: What?
Lord Summerisle: Literally, as Miss Rose would doubtless say in her assiduous way, reproduction without sexual union.
Sergeant Howie: Oh, what is all this? I mean, you've got fake biology, fake religion... Sir, have these children never heard of Jesus?
Lord Summerisle: Himself the son of a virgin, impregnated, I believe, by a ghost.
Dominika Egorova: You sent me to whore school.
Dr. Wynn: Now, for God's sake, he can't even drive a car.
Loomis: He was doing very well last night! Maybe someone around here gave him lessons.
Rachel: A fucking 'Facebook' killer... You're kidding me right?
Chloe: I guess now it would be Twitter, that'd make more sense.
Molly Jensen: Carl, are you all right?
Carl Bruner: It's just my stomach! Do you have anything like Pepto Bismol or something like that?
Sam Wheat: Cyanide.
Sister Madeline: If we can create this life with what imagination, why not the next?