Jules Winnfield: Ezekiel 25:17. 'The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyrannies of evil men. Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness. For he is truly his brothers' keeper and finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.' Now I've been saying that shit for years, and if you've ever heard it, it meant your ass. I never gave much thought to what it meant, I just thought it was a cold blooded thing to say to a mother fucker before I popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this morning that made me think twice. Now I'm thinking it could mean you're the evil man, and I'm the righteous man. And Mr. 9mm here is the shepherd, protecting my righteous ass. Or maybe it means that you're the righteous man, and I'm the shepherd, and it's the world that's evil and selfish. Now I'd like that, but you see that shit ain't the truth. The truth is, YOU'RE the weak, and I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm trying, Ringo. I'm trying real hard to be the shepherd.
Jules Winnfield: What does Marcellus Wallace look like?
Jules Winnfield: What country you from?
Jules Winnfield: What ain't no country I ever heard of. They speak English in What?
Jules Winnfield: ENGLISH, MOTHERFUCKER! DO-YOU-SPEAK-IT?
Jules Winnfield: Then you know what I'm saying.
Jules Winnfield: Describe what Marcellus Wallace looks like.
Brett: What, I-?
Jules Winnfield: [pointing his gun.] Say what again. SAY WHAT AGAIN. I dare you, I double dare you, motherfucker. Say what one more goddamn time.
Brett: He's b-b-black.
Jules Winnfield: Go on.
Brett: He's bald.
Jules Winnfield: Does he look like a bitch?
[Jules shoots Brett in shoulder.]
Jules Winnfield: DOES HE LOOK LIKE A BITCH?
Jules Winnfield: Then why you try to fuck him like a bitch, Brett?
Brett: I didn't.
Jules Winnfield: Yes you did. Yes you did, Brett. You tried to fuck him. And Marcellus Wallace don't like to be fuuced by anybody, except Mrs. Wallace.
Vincent: Lance! It's Vincent. I'm in big fuckin' trouble, man. I'm coming to your house.
Lance: Whoa. Whoa. Hold your horses, man. What's the problem?
Vincent: I've got this chick, she fuckin' O.D.in' on me!
Lance: Well, don't bring her here! I'm not even fuckin' joking with you, man! Do not be bringing some fucked-up pooh-bah to my house!
Vincent: No choice.
Lance: She's O.D.in'?
Vincent: She's fuckin' dyin' on me, man!
Lance: Okay, then you bite the fuckin' bullet, take her to a hospital and call a lawyer.
Lance: This is not my fuckin' problem, man! You fucked her up, you fuckin' deal with this!
Jimmie: I'm gonna get fuckin' divorced. No marriage counselling, no trial separation, I'm gonna get fuckin' divorced.
Jules: Normally, both your asses would be dead as fucking fried chicken, but you happen to pull this shit while I'm in a transitional period so I don't wanna kill you, I wanna help you. But I can't give you this case, it don't belong to me. Besides, I've already been through too much shit this morning over this case to hand it over to your dumb ass.
Mia: I do believe Marsellus Wallace, my husband, your boss, told you to take ME out and do WHATEVER I WANTED. Now I wanna dance, I wanna win. I want that trophy, so dance good.
Marsellus Wallace: Yeah, I grasp that, Jules. All I'm doing is contemplating the ifs.
Jules: I don't wanna hear about no motherfuckin' ifs. All I wanna hear from your ass is, "You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the motherfucker. Go back in there and chill them niggers out and wait for the cavalry, which should be coming directly."
Marsellus Wallace: You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the motherfucker. Go back in there and chill them niggers out and wait for the Wolf, who should be coming directly.
Jules: You sendin' the Wolf?
Marsellus Wallace: Oh, you feel better, motherfucker?
Jules: Shit, yeah, negro. That's all you had to say.
Vincent: That's a pretty fucking good milkshake. I don't know if it's worth five dollars but it's pretty fucking good.
Butch: Will you hand me a towel, tulip?
Fabienne: Ah, I like that. I like tulip. Tulip is much better than mongoloid.
Mia: Don't you hate that?
Mia: Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?
Vincent: I don't know. That's a good question.
Mia: That's when you know you've found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence.
Captain Koons: The way your dad looked at it, this watch was your birthright. He'd be damned if any of the slopes were gonna get their greasy yellow hands on his boy's birthright. So he hid it in the one place he knew he could hide something: his ass. Five long years, he wore this watch up his ass. Then when he died of dysentery, he gave me the watch. I hid this uncomfortable piece of metal up my ass for two years. Then, after seven years, I was sent home to my family. And now, little man, I give the watch to you.
Jules Winnfield: You know what they call a quarter pounder with cheese in France?
Jules Winnfield: Tell 'em, Vincent.
Vincent Vega: Royale with cheese.
Jules Winnfield: Royale with Cheese. Ya know why they call them that?
Brett: Because of the metric system?
Jules Winnfield: Check out the big brain on Brett!
Lance: Look, you brought her here, and that means that you're giving her the shot. The day that I bring an OD-ing bitch over to your house, then I'll give her the shot. Give her the shot.
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