[All ammunition has been confiscated.]
Marine: What are we supposed to use? Harsh language?.
[The alien queen advances on Newt.]
Ripley: Get away from her you bitch!
Hudson: Game over man... Game over!
Hudson: Hey Vasquez, have you ever been mistaken for a man?
Vasquez: No, have you?
Ripley: Newt, look at me. Where are they?
Newt: They're dead! All right? Can I go now?
Ripley: You know Burke? I don't know which species is worse. You don't see them fucking each other over for a goddamn percentage.
Newt: We'd better get back, 'cause it'll be dark soon, and they mostly come at night... Mostly.
Bishop: Not bad for a human.
Apone: All right, sweethearts. You heard the man and you know the drill. Assholes and elbows! Hudson, come here! Come here.
Van Luen: Thank you, that will be all.
Ripley: Goddammit, that's not all! You see, if one of those things gets down, then that will be all! Then, all this, this bullshit you think is so important, you can just kiss all that goodbye!
Hudson: How do I get out of this chicken shit outfit?
Apone: You secure that shit, Hudson!
Hudson: Maybe you haven't been keeping up on current events, but we just got our asses kicked, pal!
Hudson: Stop your grinnin' and drop your linen.
Ripley: How many drops is this for you Lieutenant?
Gorman: Thirty eight... Simulated.
Vasquez: How many combat drops?
Gorman: Uh, two. Including this one.
Bishop: Believe me, I'd prefer not to. I may be synthetic, but I'm not stupid.