Dr. Gonzo: As your attorney, I advise you to take a hit out of the little brown bottle in my shaving kit. You won't need much, just a tiny taste.
Raoul Duke: Order us some golf shoes, otherwise we'll never get out of this place alive. Impossible to walk in this muck. No footing at all.
Raoul Duke: That bastard isn't gonna get away with this. I mean, what is going on in this country when a scumsucker like that can get away with sandbagging a doctor of journalism? Can you tell me that?
Dr. Gonzo: Cows are gonna kill me. Bisexuals are gonna kill me. Let's get out of here. Where's the elevator?
Raoul Duke: No! Fuck! Don't go near the elevator, man, that's just what they want us to do. Trap us in a steel box, take us down to the basement. Come here. Don't run, man. They'd like any excuse to shoot us.
Raoul Duke: The possibility of physical and mental collapse is now very real. No sympathy for the Devil, keep that in mind. Buy the ticket, take the ride.
Raoul Duke: With a bit of luck, his life was ruined forever. Always thinking that just behind some narrow door in all of his favorite bars, men in red woolen shirts are getting incredible kicks from things he'll never know.
Dr. Gonzo: The truth.
Raoul Duke: Truth?
Dr. Gonzo: We're going to Vegas... to croak a scag baron named Savage Henry.
Raoul Duke: It's true.
Dr. Gonzo: Why, because I've known him for years, but he ripped us off.
Raoul Duke: And you know what that means.
Dr. Gonzo: And you know what that means. Savage Henry has cashed his check.
Raoul Duke: Cashed his check.
Dr. Gonzo: And we're gonna rip his lungs out. And eat them.
Raoul Duke: My attorney had never been able to accept the notion, often espoused by former drug abusers, that you can get a lot higher without drugs than with them, and neither have I for that matter.
Raoul Duke: Panic. It crept up my spine like first rising vibes of an acid frenzy. All these horrible realities began to dawn on me. There I was. Alone in Las Vegas, completely twisted on drugs, no cash, no story for the magazine, and on top of everything else, a gigantic god damned hotel bill to deal with. How would Horatio Alger handle this situation? Stay calm. Stay calm.
Raoul Duke: There was only one road back to L.A. - U.S. Interstate 15. Just a flat-out high speed burn through Baker and Barstow and Berdoo. Then onto the Hollywood Freeway, and straight on into frantic oblivion. Safety. Obscurity. Just another freak, in the freak kingdom.