Raoul Duke: Total control now. Tooling along the main drag on a Saturday night in Vegas. Two good old boys in a fire-apple red convertible. Stoned. Ripped. Twisted. Good people.
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: Yeah, I know. I'm guilty. I understand that. I knew it was a crime, and I did it anyways. Shit, why argue? I'm a fucking criminal, look at me.
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.
Raoul Duke: La llama es un quadrupedo.
Raoul Duke: You better take care of me, Lord. If you don't you're gonna have me on your hands.
Raoul Duke: Our vibrations were getting nasty. But why? Was there no communication in this car? Had we deteriorated to the level of dumb beasts?
Raoul Duke: Of course, I could hear what the clerk was really saying.
Clerk at Flamingo Hotel: Listen, you fuzzy little shithead! I've been fucked around in my time by a fairly good cross-section of mean-tempered, rule-crazy cops, and now it's my turn. So fuck you, Officer. I'm in charge.
Highway Patrolman: May I have a little kiss before you go? I'm very lonely here.
Raoul Duke: Kill the body, the head will die. Ali-Frazier fight. Crazy shit, man.
Magazine Reporter: Upper end of the Sixties. Ali beaten by a human hamburger.
Raoul Duke: Both Kennedys murdered by mutants? Shit.
Raoul Duke: A drug person can learn to cope with things like seeing their dead grandmother crawling up their leg with a knife in her teeth. But no-one should be asked to handle this trip.
Raoul Duke: You people just don't understand! This car is property of the World Bank, that money goes to Italy.
Raoul Duke: Those of us that had been up all night were in no mood for coffee and donuts, we wanted strong drink. We were, after all, the absolute cream of the national sporting press.
Raoul Duke: What kind of rat bastard psychotic would play that song right now, at this moment?
Dr. Gonzo: It's okay. He's just admiring the shape of your skull.
Dr. Gonzo: Lucy is an artist. Lucy paints portraits of Barbara Streisand.
Dr. Gonzo: I have to go.
Raoul Duke: Go?
Dr. Gonzo: Yes. Leave the country.
Raoul Duke: Calm down. You'll be straight in a few hours. Just sit down, sit the fuck down.
Dr. Gonzo: Don't fuck around, man. This is serious. One more hour in this town and I'll kill somebody.
Raoul Duke: Oh god... did you eat all this acid?
Dr. Gonzo: That's right. music.
Raoul Duke: The store was closed, but the salesman said he could wait if we hurry. But we were delayed en route when a stingray in front of us killed a pedestrian.
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.
