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Quotes / Pulp Fiction

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Ringo: I love you, Pumpkin.
Yolanda: I love you, Honey Bunny.
Ringo: (pulls out a gun and stands on the booth) All right, everybody be cool, this is a robbery!
Yolanda: Any of you FUCKING PRICKS move, and I'll execute EVERY MOTHERFUCKING LAST ONE OF YOU!
(opening credits roll to "Misirlou" at full blast)

Vincent: [...] And you know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?
Jules: They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with Cheese?
Vincent: Nah, man. They got the metric system; they wouldn't know what the fuck a quarter pounder is.
Jules: Then what do they call it?
Vincent: They call it a Royale with Cheese.
Jules: Royale with Cheese?
Vincent: That's right.
Jules: What do they call a Big Mac?
Vincent: A Big Mac is a Big Mac, but they call it Le Big Mac.

Jules: If my answers frighten you, then you should cease asking scary questions.

Jules: (after shooting Roger, the man on the couch) Oh, I'm sorry. Did I break your concentration? I didn't mean to do that. Please, continue, you were saying something about "best intentions". What's the matter? (Beat) Oh, you were finished! Well, allow me to retort! (leans in closer) What does Marsellus Wallace look like?
Brett: ...What?
Jules: (flips the table where Brett was sitting on) What country you from?
Brett: Wha-what?
Jules: "What" ain't no country I ever heard of! They speak English in "What"?
Brett: ...what?
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Then you know what I'm sayin'!
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Describe what Marsellus Wallace looks like!
Brett: ...what? I—
Jules: (draws gun) Say "what" again! SAY! "WHAT"! AGAIN! I DARE YOU! I DOUBLE DARE YOU, MOTHERFUCKER! Say "what" one more goddamn time!
Brett: H-he's-he's black!
Jules: Go on!
Brett: He's bald!
Jules: Does he look like a bitch?
Brett: What?
Jules: (fires at Brett's shoulder, who groans in pain) DOES. HE. LOOK. LIKE. A BITCH?!
Brett: (in obvious pain) NOOOOO!
Jules: Then why'd you try to fuck him like a bitch, Brett?
Brett: I didn't!
Jules: Yes, you did! Yes, you, did, Brett! You tried to fuck him, and Marsellus Wallace don't like to be fucked by anyone except Mrs. Wallace. You read the Bible, Brett?
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Well, there's this passage I've got memorized, sorta fits the occasion. Ezekiel 25:17? "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and goodwill shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger, those who attempt to poison and destroy My brothers! And you will know My name is The Lord...when I lay My vengeance upon thee!"
(Brett screams as Jules and Vincent shoot him dead)

Mia: ...Don't you hate that?
Vincent: Hate what?
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 how you know you've found somebody really special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably share silence.
Vincent: Well, I don't think we're quite there yet, but don't feel bad we just met each other.
Mia: I'll tell you what ...I'm gonna go to the bathroom and powder my nose... you sit here and think of something to say.
Vincent: I'll do that.

Captain Koons: I hid this uncomfortable hunk of metal up my ass, two years...

Butch: You okay?
Marsellus: Naw, man. I'm pretty fuckin' far from okay.
(Zed is heard continually agonizing in the background)
Butch: What now?
Marsellus: What now? Let me tell you what now. I'mma call a couple of hard, pipe-hittin' niggas who'll go to work on the homes here with a pair of pliers and a blow torch... (to Zed) You hear me talkin', hillbilly boy?! I ain't through with you by a damn sight, I'mma get medieval on your ass!
Butch: ...I meant what now between me and you?
Marsellus: Oh, that "what now". I'll tell you what now between me and you. (...) There is no me and you. Not no more.
Butch: So we cool?
Marsellus: Yeah, we're cool. Two things... Don't tell nobody about this. This shit's between me, you, and Mr. Soon-to-Be-Livin'-the-Rest-of-His-Short-Ass-Life-in-Agonizing-Pain Rapist here. It ain't nobody else's business. Two: you leave town tonight. Right now. And when you're gone, you stay gone, or you be gone. You've lost all your LA privileges, deal?
Butch: Deal.
Marsellus: Get your ass outta here.

Fabienne: Whose motorcycle is this?
Butch: It's a chopper, baby.
Fabienne: Whose chopper is this?
Butch: Zed's.
Fabienne: Who's Zed?
Butch: Zed's dead, baby. Zed's dead.

Marvin: Man, I don't even have an opinion!
Vincent: Well, you gotta have an opinion. I mean do you think that God came down from heaven and stopped the— (gun goes off, hitting Marvin's head and splattering his brains all over the car) WHOA! AW MAN!
Vincent: Oh man, I shot Marvin in the face.
Vincent: Well, I didn't mean to do it, it was an accident!

Jules: Mmm. Goddamn, Jimmie! This some serious gourmet shit! Me and Vincent would've been satisfied with some freeze-dried Taster's Choice, right? And he springs this serious gourmet shit on us. What flavor is this?
Jimmie: Knock it off, Julie.
Jules: Wha...?
Jimmie: I don't need you to tell me how fuckin' good my coffee is, okay? I'm the one who buys it. I know how good it is. When Bonnie goes shopping, she buys shit! I buy the gourmet expensive stuff 'cause when I drink it, I wanna taste it. But you know what's on my mind right now? It ain't the coffee in my kitchen. It's the dead nigger in my garage.
Jules: Oh. Jimmie, don't even worry about tha—
Jimmie: Nononono, don't think about anything. I want to ask you a question: When you came pulling in here, did you notice a sign on the front of my house that said "Dead Nigger Storage"?
Jules: Jimmie, you know I ain't seen no shi—
Jimmie: (louder) Did you notice a sign on the front of my house that said "Dead Nigger Storage"?!
Jules: No... I didn't.
Jimmie: You know why you didn't see that sign?
Jules: (sighs) Why?
Jimmie: 'Cause it ain't there, 'cause storing dead niggers ain't my fucking business, that's why!

Marsellus: ...well, say she comes home. Whaddya think she'll do? (beat, Marsellus is listening to Jules) Oh, no fuckin' shit she'll freak. That ain't no kinda answer. I mean, you know I don't know how much, a lot or a little.
Jules: You got to appreciate what an explosive element this Bonnie situation is. I mean, she comes home from a hard day's work, finds a buncha gangstas in a kitchen doing a bunch of gangsta shit, ain't no tellin' what she's liable to do.
Marsellus: Yeah, I grasp that, Jules. All I'm doin' is contemplatin' the "if"s.
Jules: I don't wanna hear about no motherfucking "if"s! All I wanna hear from your ass is "You ain't got no problem Jules, I'm on them, muthafucka. Go back in there and chill them niggas out, and wait for the cavalry, which should be comin', directly!"
Marsellus: You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on them, muthafucka. Go back in there and chill them niggas out, and wait for the Wolf, who should be comin' directly.
Jules: You sendin' the Wolf?
Marsellus: Oh, you feel better, motherfucka?
Jules: Shit, negro! That's all you had to say! (he hangs up the phone)

Jules: Oh, man! (Vincent is scrubbing the windows and cleaning the front while Jules is trying to clean the much messier back of the car) I will never forgive your ass for this shit! This is some fucked up repugnant shit!
Vincent: Jules, did you ever heard the philosophy that once a man admits that he is wrong that he's immediately forgiven for all wrong-doings? You ever heard that?
Jules: Get the fuck out my face with that shit! The motherfucker who said that shit never had to pick up itty-bitty pieces of skull on account of your dumb ass.
Vincent: I got a threshold, Jules, I got a threshold for the abuse that I will take. And right now I'm a fucking race car, all right, you got me in the red. And I'm just saying, I'm just saying, that it's fucking dangerous to have a racecar in the fucking red that's all. I could blow!
Jules: Oh, oh, you ready to blow?
Vincent: Yeah, I'm ready to blow!
Jules: Well, I’m a mushroom-cloud-layin‘ ''motherfucker'', motherfucker! Every time my fingers touch brain I'm SUPERFLY T.N.T, I'm the GUNS OF THE NAVARONE. In fact, what the fuck am I doin' in the back? You're the motherfucker should be on brain detail! We're fucking switchin'. I'm washin' windows and you're pickin' up this nigga's skull.

Jules: You read the Bible, Ringo?
Pumpkin: Not regularly, no.
Jules: There's a passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy My brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay My vengeance upon you." Now, I been saying that shit for years. And if you heard it, that meant your ass. You'd be dead right now. I never gave much thought to what it meant. I just thought it was a cold-blooded thing to say to a motherfucker before I popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this morning made me think twice. See, now I'm thinking: maybe it means you're the evil man. And I'm the righteous man. And Mr. 9mm here, he's the Shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could mean you're the righteous man, and I'm the shepherd, and it's the world that's evil and selfish. And I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is you're the weak. And I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm trying, Ringo. I'm trying real hard to be the Shepherd.
("Ringo" stops to think about it for a moment, and looks down, reflecting. Jules locks his gun and looks at him.)
Jules: Go.
(the Mexican Standoff ends, Pumpkin leaves the table with Yolanda, and both head to the exit, leaving the diner)
Vincent: I think we should be leaving now.
Jules: Yeah, that's probably a good idea.
(The two hitmen walk to the diner's entrance with a casual swagger, mindfully shove their guns into their pants waists, and exit with a bell ringing as they go out the door. Roll end credits.)