Lindsey: I was just thinking that if you're still alive when I get back from work tonight... maybe, I don't know, we could go out to dinner or something?
Lindsey: We are dealing with a bona fide case of mistaken identity here.
Lindsey: Things like that aren't supposed to be real. It's like amnesia.
Lindsey: Not withstanding, here you are and Nick's nowhere to be found, so... I'd say you're fucked.
Lindsey: Shouldn't you be a little more worried about all this?
Slevin: I have ataraxia.
Slevin: It's a condition characterized by freedom from worry or any other preoccupation, really.
Slevin: Ok, I'm under the impression that you're under the impression that I owe you 96,000 dollars.
The Boss: No, you owe Slim Hopkins 96,000 dollars. You owe Slim, Slim owes me... You owe me.
Slevin: I have ataraxia.
Slevin: It's a condition characterized by freedom from worry or any other pre-occupation really.
The Rabbi: If there's one thing I know, is when someone is lying. A man in my position, that's all he has to go on. To know a lie when he hears it. It's the difference between life and death. Your own. Someone else's. That being said, he wasn't lying.
The Rabbi: You're unlucky and nothing more than a frame of reference for the lucky Mr. Fisher. You're unlucky, so that I may know that I am not. Unfortunately, the lucky never realised they are lucky until its too late. Take yourself for instance, yesterday you were better off than you are today but it took today for you to realise it. But, today has arrived and it's too late. You see?
Slevin: You're not as tall as I thought you'd be.
Lindsey: Well, I'm short for my height.
Slevin: That makes sense because I can usually tell how tall someone is by their knock. You have a deceptively tall knock. Congratulations.
Lindsey: So it's a good thing?
Slevin: I open the door expecting you to be up here, you're down here. That combined with a low centre of gravity - forget about it.
Slevin: This isn't the first time this has happened, you know.
Lindsey: You mean this isn't the first time a crime lord asked you to kill the gay son of a rival gangster to pay off a debt that belongs to a friend whose place you're staying in as a result of losing your job, your apartment, and finding your girlfriend in bed with another guy?
Slevin: No, this is the first time that happened, but Nick has been painting me into corners since we were kids.
Slevin: How did you find out about us?
Mr. Goodkat: I'm a world-class assassin, fuckhead. How do you think I found out?
Slevin: But I'm not Nick.
Elvis: Yeah, well, unfortunately for you, you're not the first cat to tell me you wasn't the guy I was looking for.
Slevin: You can ask Lindsey. She lives across the hall.
Elvis: Yo, man, I ain't askin' nobody nothin'! Nick, Slevin, Clark Kent, whatever the fuck your name is. The Virgin Mary herself could com waltzin' up in here with her fine ass, titties hangin' out and everything, and if she tells me your name is Jesus Christ, I still gotta take you to see the Boss.
Slevin: How do you justify being a rabbi... and a gangster?
The Rabbi: I don't. I'm a bad man who doesn't waste time wondering what could've been when I am what could've been and what could not have been. I live on both sides of the fence. My grass is always green. Consider, Mr. Fisher... there are two men sitting here before you, and one of them you should be very afraid of. Where's my money?