Marcella: You know, when you started getting invited to your ten year high school reunion, time is catching up.
Martin Q. Blank: Are you talking about a sense of my own mortality or a fear of death?
Marcella: Well, I never really thought about it quite like that.
Martin Q. Blank: Did you go to yours?
Marcella: Yes, I did. It was just as if everyone had swelled.
Marty: I'm sorry if I fucked up your life.
Debi: It's not over yet.
Ken McCullard: I do divorce mainly, some property, some personal injury.
Marty: They all seem kinda related.
Martin Q. Blank: Dr. Oatman, please pick up, pick up! It's Martin Blank! I, I'm standing where my, uh, living room was and it's not here because my house is gone and it's an Ultimart! You can never go home again, Oatman... But I guess you can shop there.
Debi: Some people say forgive and forget. Nah, I don't know. I say forget about forgiving and just accept. And... Get the hell out of town.
Martin Blank: If I show up at your door, chances are you did something to bring me there.
Debi: I should have worn a skirt.
Marty: I should have brought my gun.
Debi: What was that?
Marty: Should be fun!
Waitress: What do you want in your omelette, sir?
Marty: Nothing in the omelette, nothing at all.
Waitress: Well, that's not technically an omelette.
Marty: Look, I don't want to get into a semantic argument, I just want the protein.
Victim: Whatever I'm doing you don't like... I'll stop doing it.
Marty: It's not me.
Marty: They all have husbands and wives and children and houses and dogs, and, you know, they've all made themselves a part of something and they can talk about what they do. What am I gonna say?"I killed the president of Paraguay with a fork. How've you been?"
Marty: Debi's house.
Paul: Kinda crept up on you, didn't it?
Marty: No, you drove us here.