Check-Out Woman: Are you here all by yourself?
Kevin McCallister: Ma'am, I'm eight years old. You think I would be here *alone*? I don't think so.
Vivian: Oh...Look honey, I have a runner in my pantyhose. Oops! I'm not wearing panty hose!
Woman at elevator: Shut your mouth, dear.
Ford Fairlane: 1969 Fender Stratocaster, original pick-ups, maple neck, strung upside down for a left-handed motherfucking genius, Jimi Hendrix.
Major Ashley-Pitt: In our experience, Americans are uncouth misfits who should be run out of their own barbaric country.
Matthew Quigley: Well, Lieutenant.
Major Ashley-Pitt: Major.
Matthew Quigley: Major. We already run the misfits outta our country. We sent 'em back to England.
Chucky: You little shit. Do you realise what you've done? It's too late. I've spent to much time in this body. I'm fucking trapped in here!
Vincent 'Vinnie' Antonelli: Arugula. I haven't had arugula in six weeks.
Supermarket Manager: What's that?
Vincent 'Vinnie' Antonelli: It's a vegetable.
Annie Wilkes: Now the time has come. I put two bullets in my gun. One for me, and one for you. Oh darling, it will be so beautiful.
Grandpa Fred: They put me on at 3am. People who are awake at 3am aren't afraid of the Wolfman. The only thing that frightens those people is sobering up and going to work.
Tim Daland: I had sponsors in from all over the coast and I'm hugging, and holding hands, and praying for a good showin'. And what do we do? We end up looking like a monkey fucking a football out there. Everybody out, please.
Henry Hill: What happened?
Jimmy Conway: They whacked him. They fucking whacked him. I can't fucking believe it.
Bill: He thr-thr-thr-thrusts his fi-fi-fists ag-ag-against the pos-posts and...
Ben: He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts. That's all it says over and over.
Bill: Th-th-thats w-w-what m-m-my m-m-mom g-gave me t-to h-help with my st-st-stutter.
Richie: I hate to tell you buddy, it ain't working.
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.
Judge Bristol: ...and there be hanged by the neck till he be dead, dead, dead. Now, do you have anything to say, young man?
William H. Bonney: Yes I do, your Honor. You can go to hell, hell, hell.