My Quotes Page...

Yea anyways I guess I've been using a lot of quotes on aol lately and I decided I needed to update my lame ass webpage sometime soon so here's some good quotes in random order:

-goodfellas-

Jimmy Conway: What is the matter with you, huh? What is the fucking matter with you? What are you, a fucking sick maniac or something? Tommy, i'm kidding with you.
Tommy DeVito: Kidding? How am I meant to kno you're kidding? You're breaking my fucking balls.
Jimmy Conway: I'm fucking kidding with you, you fucking shoot the guy?
Henry Hill: He's dead.
Jimmy Conway: You dumb bastard, I can't fucking believe you. You're gonna dig the hole.
Tommy DeVito: Fine, I'll dig the fucking hole. I don't give a fuck.

Jimmy Conway: I'm fucking kidding with you; you fucking shoot the guy?
Henry Hill: He's dead.
Tommy DeVito: I'm a good shot, what do you want from me? I'm a good shot.
Anthony Stabile: How could you miss at this distance?

-resevoir dogs-

Nice Guy Eddie: C'mon, throw in a buck!
Mr. Pink: Uh-uh, I don't tip.
Nice Guy Eddie: You don't tip?
Mr. Pink: I don't believe in it.
Nice Guy Eddie: You don't believe in tipping?
Mr. Blue: You know what these chicks make? They make shit.
Mr. Pink: Don't give me that. She don't make enough money, she can quit.
Nice Guy Eddie: I don't even know a fucking Jew who'd have the balls to say that. Let me get this straight: you never ever tip, huh?
Mr. Pink: I don't tip because society says I have to. Alright, I tip when somebody really deserves a tip. If they put forth an effort, I'll give them something extra. But I mean, this tipping automatically, that's for the birds. As far as I'm concerned they're just doing their job.
Mr. Blue: Hey, this girl was nice.
Mr. Pink: She was okay. But she wasn't anything special.
Mr. Blue: What special? Take you in the back and suck your dick?
Nice Guy Eddie: I'd go over twelve percent for that.

Mr. White: I got Madonna's big dick comin' outta my left ear, and Toby the Jap... I don't know what comin' outta my right.

-pulp fiction-

Jules Winnfield: Mmmm! Goddamn, Jimmie! This is some serious gourmet shit! Usually, me and Vince would be happy with some freeze-dried Taster's Choice, but he springs this serious GOURMET shit on us! What flavor is this?
Jimmie Dimmick: Knock it off, Julie.
Jules Winnfield: [pause] What?
Jimmie Dimmick: I'm not a cob of corn, so you can stop buttering me up. I don't need you to tell me how fucking good my coffee is, all right? I'm the one who buys it. I know how good it is. When Bonnie goes out shopping she buys SHIT. Me, I buy the expensive gourmet stuff because when I drink it I like to 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 Winnfield: Oh, Jimmie, don't even worry about that...
Jimmie Dimmick: No, let me ask you a question. When you came pulling in here, did you see a sign out in front of my house that said "Dead Nigger Storage?"
Jules Winnfield: Jimmie, you know I ain't seen no...
Jimmie Dimmick: Did you see a sign out in front of my house that said "Dead Nigger Storage?"
Jules Winnfield: [pause] No. I didn't.
Jimmie Dimmick: You know WHY you didn't see that sign?
Jules Winnfield: Why?
Jimmie Dimmick: 'Cause it ain't there, 'cause storing dead niggers ain't my fucking business, that's why!   

Jules: Whoa... whoa... whoa... stop right there. Eatin' a bitch out, and givin' a bitch a foot massage ain't even the same fuckin' thing.
Vincent: Not the same thing, the same ballpark.
Jules: It ain't no fuckin' ballpark either. Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but touchin' his wife's feet, and stickin' your tongue in her holyiest of holies, ain't the same ballpark, it ain't the same league, it ain't even the same fuckin' sport. Foot massages don't mean shit.
Vincent: Have you ever given a foot massage?
Jules: Don't be tellin' me about foot massages - I'm the foot fuckin' master.
Vincent: Given a lot of 'em?
Jules: Shit yeah. I got my technique down and everything, I don't be tickling or nothin'.
Vincent: Would you give a guy a foot massage?
Jules: Fuck you.
Vincent: You give them a lot?
Jules: Fuck you.
Vincent: You know, I'm getting kinda tired, I could use a foot massage.
Jules: Man, you best back off, I'm gittin' pissed.    

-Apocalypse Now-

Kilgore: You smell that? Do you smell that?... Napalm, son. Nothing else in the world smells like that. I love the smell of napalm in the morning. You know, one time we had a hill bombed, for twelve hours. When it was all over I walked up. We didn't find one of 'em, not one stinkin' dink body. The smell, you know that gasoline smell, the whole hill. Smelled like... victory. Someday this war's gonna end...

Willard: As for the charges against me, I am unconcerned. I am beyond their timid lying morality, and so I am beyond caring.

[apologizing for severed heads adorning Kurtz's headquarters]
Photo Journalist: The heads. You're looking at the heads. Sometimes he goes too far. He's the first one to admit it.

-Platoon-

[King is writing a letter to his girlfriend]
Francis: It ain't D-E-R-E, it's D-E-A-R. And "Sarah" ain't got no two R's, King. Damn you're dumb.
King: It don't make no difference, she know what I mean. She don't read too good nohow.

King: Somewhere out there is the beast and he's hungry tonight.
Chris Taylor: Have you ever gotten into a mistake that you just can't get out of, King?
King: There is a way out of everything, man. Just keep your pecker hard and your powder dry and the world will turn.

Tex: Keep this sorry cheese dick off my ass.