Jeffrey Pelt: Mr. Ryan, I'm a politician. Which means I'm a cheat and a liar and when I'm not kissing babies I'm stealing their lollipops.
Check-Out Woman: Are you here all by yourself?
Kevin McCallister: Ma'am, I'm eight years old. You think I would be here *alone*? I don't think so.
Major Ashley-Pitt: In our experience, Americans are uncouth misfits who should be run out of their own barbaric country.
Matthew Quigley: Well, Lieutenant.
Major Ashley-Pitt: Major.
Matthew Quigley: Major. We already run the misfits outta our country. We sent 'em back to England.
Jennifer: Excuse me, Doc Brown. I brought this message back from the future and, well, now it's erased.
Doc: Of course it's erased.
Jennifer: But what does that mean?
Doc: It means your futures haven't been written yet. No one's has. Your future is what ever you make. So make it a good one, the both of you.
Vivian: Oh...Look honey, I have a runner in my pantyhose. Oops! I'm not wearing panty hose!
Woman at elevator: Shut your mouth, dear.
Chucky: You little shit. Do you realise what you've done? It's too late. I've spent to much time in this body. I'm fucking trapped in here!
Rachel: To be able to fly, to be smoke, or a wolf? To know the night and live in it forever? That's not so bad. You call us 'monsters, ' but when you dream, you dream of flying, and changing, and living without death. You envy us, and what you envy.
Lori Desinger: ...We destroy.
Harry Hogge: Cole, you're wandering all over the track.
Cole Trickle: Yeah, well this son of a bitch just slammed into me.
Harry Hogge: No, no, he didn't slam you, he didn't bump you, he didn't nudge you... he rubbed you. And rubbin, son, is racin'.
Grandpa Fred: They put me on at 3am. People who are awake at 3am aren't afraid of the Wolfman. The only thing that frightens those people is sobering up and going to work.
Officer Allen: We're looking for the man with the hands.
Molly Jensen: Carl, are you all right?
Carl Bruner: It's just my stomach! Do you have anything like Pepto Bismol or something like that?
Sam Wheat: Cyanide.
Henry Hill: What happened?
Jimmy Conway: They whacked him. They fucking whacked him. I can't fucking believe it.
William H. Bonney: "Buckshot George", that's your name. You wanted a name, that's it. "Buckshot George." It's a good name.
Hendry French: My name is Hendry William French.
William H. Bonney: That's a good name too.
The Judge: By the way, that's a shame about your face.
Hatchet-Face: There's nothing the matter with my face. I got character.
Vincent 'Vinnie' Antonelli: The shoes, right? The shoes are tragic.
Ford Fairlane: 1969 Fender Stratocaster, original pick-ups, maple neck, strung upside down for a left-handed motherfucking genius, Jimi Hendrix.
Verna: Leo's got the right idea. I like him, he's honest and he's got a heart.
Tom Reagan: Then it's true what they say. Opposites attract.
Dr. Sayer: I'm sorry, if you were right, I would agree with you.
Lt. Elgin: Spivy! You bash that prisoner one more time, I'll put those shackles on you.