Vincent: Lance! It's Vincent. I'm in big fuckin' trouble, man. I'm coming to your house.
Lance: Whoa. Whoa. Hold your horses, man. What's the problem?
Vincent: I've got this chick, she fuckin' O.D.in' on me!
Lance: Well, don't bring her here! I'm not even fuckin' joking with you, man! Do not be bringing some fucked-up pooh-bah to my house!
Vincent: No choice.
Lance: She's O.D.in'?
Vincent: She's fuckin' dyin' on me, man!
Lance: Okay, then you bite the fuckin' bullet, take her to a hospital and call a lawyer.
Lance: This is not my fuckin' problem, man! You fucked her up, you fuckin' deal with this!
Jules Winnfield: You know what they call a quarter pounder with cheese in France?
Jules Winnfield: Tell 'em, Vincent.
Vincent Vega: Royale with cheese.
Jules Winnfield: Royale with Cheese. Ya know why they call them that?
Brett: Because of the metric system?
Jules Winnfield: Check out the big brain on Brett!
Mia: Don't you hate that?
Mia: Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?
Vincent: I don't know. That's a good question.
Mia: That's when you know you've found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence.
Vincent: That's a pretty fucking good milkshake. I don't know if it's worth five dollars but it's pretty fucking good.
Tony Manero: If you're as good in bed as you are on the dance floor, then you must be one lousy f*ck.
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