Jerry: I don't know what it takes! I'm new in the fuck you business.
Leroy: Kevlar is for pussies.
Bernie Nayman: Do you like sex and travel?
Bernie Nayman: Jerry, You're a fucking moron. Here are your options: Number 1, I roll you up to the neck in a carpet, stuff you into the back of a sedan, and light you on fire with gasoline. You with me? Choice one.
Bernie Nayman: Number 2, You like sex and travel? What, you like to have sex, you like to travel? You get you ass on a flight to Mexico. All the ten dollar hookers you can shake your stick at. You pick up a pistol that belongs to Margolese. What's it going to be?
Jerry: Baby, what are you doing?
Samantha: You said this was your last job, Jerry.
Jerry: What do you want me to say? I'm sorry, I can't, the old lady wants me to quit. Fuck off.
Samantha: Yes! Something like that. Like exactly.
Jerry: I'm not in insurance, sweetie.
Leroy: I'm here to regulate funkiness.
Jerry: You're missing the grand design here! If I don't go, I'm dead! Yeah. And it's a little hard to carry on a relationship when I'm stuffed with straw and formaldehyde.
Samantha: You have managed to Forrest Gump your way through this.
Frank: Guns don't kill people - postal workers do.
Jerry: Just one more word Sam, and I'll crash this fucking CAR.
Joe the Pawnshop Owner: Hola.
Ted: I no fuck around, comprende? Gun, gun, loaded. Bang, bang. You dead.
Joe the Pawnshop Owner: Do you have a speech impediment?
Jerry: Oh, Ok, I was under the impression, with Margolese getting out of jail and all, that the last job, was my last job.
Bernie Nayman: You fucked up that job.
Bobby Victory: You fucked up that job, Jerry.
Bernie Nayman: Yeah, this job, will be your last job.
Samantha: I am a hostage? This is so Jerry.