SOD McKinley: I don't give a flying handshake what your name is.
Lord John Whorfin: Home... home is where you wear your hat... I feel so breakup, I wanna go home.
Black Lectroid Commander: So what? Big deal.
Lord John Whorfin: Laugh-a while you can, monkey-boy.
Buckaroo Banzai: You can check your anatomy all you want, and even though there may be normal variation, when it comes right down to it, this far inside the head it all looks the same. No, no, no, don't tug on that. You never know what it might be attached to.
Orderly: Who are you today, Doc? Einstein?
Lord John Whorfin: Lord John Whorfin. If there's one thing I hate, it's to be mistaken for somebody else.
John O'Connor: They're only monkey-boys. We can crush them here on earth, Lord Whorfin.
John Parker: Buckaroo Banzai.
Buckaroo Banzai: What?
John Parker: There is little time. You'd better come quickly if your planet is still important to you.
Artie: I don't care if you drove through a mountain in Texas. This is New Jersey, and when you play my... when you play my joint, you're just another act. I want some music out'a you characters.
Reno: You want it, Artie? You got it.
John Bigboote: Damn John Whorfin and the horse he rode in on.
Casper Lindley: She can't be serious, can she? Vaporize the whole damn planet?
Buckaroo Banzai: You wanna roll all those dice, Casper?
Casper Lindley: Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no. Not me, man, not me.
Buckaroo Banzai: You ever thought about joining me full time?
New Jersey: Whatya mean, you serious, do you have an opening?
Buckaroo Banzai: Uh huh. Can you sing?
New Jersey: A little, yeh, I can dance.
Perfect Tommy: Be cool. She'll hold.
Yoyodyne intercom announcement: The only joy is the joy of duty. Work... work... work.
Rawhide: Dr. Banzai is using a laser to vaporize a pineal tumor without damaging the parthogenital plate. A subcutaneous microphone will allow the patient to transmit verbal instructions to his own brain.
Observer: Like, "raise my left arm"?
Rawhide: Or "throw the harpoon." People are gonna come from all over. This boy's an Eskimo.
General Catburd: The man's been through solid matter, for crying out loud. Who knows what's happened to his brain? Maybe it's scrambled his molecules. All I'm saying is, Mr. President, let's not panic.
Lord John Whorfin: Shut up, Big-booty, you coward. You are the weakest individual I ever know.
Overhead announcement at psychiatric hospital: Lithium is no longer available on credit.
New Jersey: Why is there a watermelon there?
Reno: I'll tell you later.
Lord John Whorfin: Will somebody turn off that gosh darn klaxon?
