Carey Mahoney: What are you in for?
Larvell Jones: I'll show you. [holds a microphone to his mouth and imitates gun fire causing everyone to drop to the floor.]
Desk Officer: GOD DAMN IT, STOP THAT.
Jim: Well, it got so that every piss-ant prairie punk who thought he could shoot a gun would ride into town to try out the Waco Kid. I must have killed more men than Cecil B. DeMille. It got pretty gritty. I started to hear the word "draw" in my sleep. Then one day, I was just walking down the street when I heard a voice behind me say, "Reach for it, mister!" I spun around... And there I was, face-to-face with a six-year old kid. Well, I just threw my guns down and walked away. Little bastard shot me in the ass. So I limped to the nearest saloon, crawled inside a whiskey bottle, and I've been there ever since.
Willy Wonka: Good morning starshine...the earth says hello!
Robin Hood: For my first order of business, I wish to appoint a new Sheriff of Rottingham. My friend, Achoo.
Achoo: All right.
Crowd: A black sheriff?
Blinkin: He's black?
Achoo: And why not? It worked in Blazing Saddles.
Cledus Snow: You can't drive a fork lift.
Bandit: I can drive any forkin' thing around.
Gingy: Ok, ok...I'll tell you. Do you know the Muffin Man?
Farquad: The Muffin Man?
Gingy: The Muffin Man.
Farquad: Yes, I know the Muffin Man. Who lives on Drury Lane?
Gingy: Well...she's married to...the Muffin Man.
Farquad: The Muffin Man?
Gingy: The Muffin Man!
Farquad: She's married to the Muffin Man?
Austin Powers: Mole! Bloody mole! We aren't supposed to talk about the bloody mole, but there's a bloody mole winking me in the face! I want to cut it off, chop it off, and make guacaMOLE!
Ace: Tell them what I'm saying. [To Wachootoo tribe] I come in peace.
Ouda: White devil say, "I will harm you."
Ace: I couldn't help but notice that Eqinsu Ocha part. Did you just refer to me as White Devil?
Ouda: This how they know you.
Ace: Leave that part out from now on. [To tribe] I represent the princess.
Ouda: I am a princess.
Ace: War is hell. The last thing we want is a fight.
Ouda: I want to fight. So go to Hell.
The Grinch: The nerve of those Whos. Inviting me down there - and on such short notice. Even if I wanted to go my schedule simply wouldn't allow it. 4:00, wallow in self pity; 4:30, stare into the abyss; 5:00, solve world hunger, tell no-one. 5:30, jazzercize. 6:30, dinner with me. I can't cancel that again. 7:00, wrestle with my self-loathing; I'm booked. Of course, if I bump the loathing to 9 I could still be done in time to lay in bed, stare at the ceiling and slip slowly into madness. But what would I wear?