Judge Wexler: The Scolari brothers.
Ray: Friends of yours?
Judge Wexler: I tried them for murder. Gave them the chair. You gotta do something.
Egon: Why don't you just tell them you don't believe in ghosts?
Jack Hardemeyer: I'm Jack Hardemeyer, I'm the mayor's assistant. I know who you are Dr. Venkman, I just don't see any ghosts anywhere.
Peter Venkman: Well that's why I wanted to talk to his Highness. See, we did a little job for the city a while back and we got stiffed on the bill by some bureaucratic bookworm like yourself.
Jack Hardemeyer: Look, you stay away from the mayor. He's running for governor next fall and the last thing we need is for him to be associated with two-bit frauds and publicity hounds like you and your friends.
Peter Venkman: You know, I'm a voter. Aren't you supposed to lie to me and kiss my butt?
Prosecutor: So what you're saying is that the world of the supernatural is your exclusive province?
Peter Venkman: Kitten, I think what I'm saying is that, sometimes, shit happens, someone has to deal with it, and who ya gonna call?
Dr. Egon Spengler: I'm worried, Ray. All my readings point to something big on the horizon.
Winston Zeddemore: What do you mean, big?
Dr. Egon Spengler: Well, let's say this Twinkie represents the normal amount of psychokinetic energy in the New York area. Based on this morning's reading, it would be a Twinkie thirty-five feet long, weighing approximately six hundred pounds.
Winston Zeddemore: That's a big Twinkie.