Butch: That's how you're gonna beat 'em, Butch. They keep underestimating
Zed: Bring out the Gimp.
Maynard: But the Gimp's sleeping.
Zed: Well, I guess you better go and wake him up then.
Jules: Hey, that's cool and the gang!
Vincent: I've got a threshold, Jules, I've got a threshold for the abuse that
I'll take and right now I'm a racecar, man, and you got me in the red. I'm just
saying, I'm just SAYING it's fucking dangerous to have a racecar in the fucking
red, that's all. I might blow.
Jules: Oh, you ready to blow? Well I'm a mushroom-cloud-laying motherfucker,
motherfucker! Everytime my fingers touch brain I'm Superfly TNT, I'm the Guns of
the Navarone. IN FACT, what the fuck am I doing in the back? You the
motherfucker should be on brain detail! We fucking switching, I'm washing the
windows and you picking up this nigger's skull!
Fabienne: Where's my Honda?
Butch: Sorry baby but I had to crash that Honda.
Jules: You remember Antoine Roccamora, half black, half Samoan, used to call him
Tony Rocky Horror?
Vincent: Yeah, maybe. Fat, right?
Jules: I wouldn't go so far as to call the brother fat, I mean he got a weight
problem. What's the nigger gonna do? He's Samoan.
Esmeralda: So what does it feel like to kill a man with your bare hands? It's a
topic I'm very interested in.
Trudi: You know how they use that gun to pierce your ears? They don't use that
when they pierce your nipples, do they?
Jody: Forget that gun. That gun goes against the entire idea behind piercing.
All of my piercings, sixteen places on my body, all of them done with a needle.
Five in each ear, one through the nipple on my left breast, one through my right
nostril, one through my left eyebrow, one in my lip, one in my clit... and I
wear a stud in my tongue.
Vincent: Excuse me, but I was just wondering... why do you wear a stud in your
Jody: It's a sex thing. It helps fellatio.
Lance: Don Vincenzo! Step into my office?
Lance: You are NOT bringing this fucked-up bitch into my house!
Vincent: This "fucked-up bitch" is Marsellus Wallace's wife! Do you
know who Marsellus Wallace is? Do you? If she croaks on me, I'm a fuckin'
Butch: Did you bring the watch?
Fabienne: I believe so.
Butch: You BELIEVE so? You BELIEVE so?! WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN? You either
did, or you didn't.
Fabienne: Then I did.
Butch: Are you sure.
Fabienne: [Shakes her head, no.]
Butch: [Explodes into a rampage.] FUCK! MOTHERFUCKING SHIT!!! DO YOU FUCKING
KNOW HOW FUCKING STUPID YOU ARE? SHIT! FUCK!
[He calms down just as quickly and suddenly as he started.]
Butch: It's not your fault.
Lance: What do you think about Trudie, she ain't got a boyfriend. You wanna hang
out, get high?
Vincent: Which ones Trudie? She the one with all the shit on her face?
Lance: No that's Jody, that's my wife.
Jody: Wow, that was fucking trippy!
Paul: Hey, my name's Paul and this shit's between y'all.
Lance: If you're OK, say something.
The Wolf: You know what you guys look like?
The Wolf: You look like a couple of guys who have just blown some ones head off!
Butch: Will you hand me a towel, tulip?
Fabienne: Ah, I like that. I like tulip. Tulip is much better than mongoloid.
Marsellus: In the fifth, your ass goes down. Say it.
Butch: In the fifth, my ass goes down.
Mia: I do believe Marsellus Wallace, my husband, your boss, told you to take ME
out and do WHATEVER I WANTED. I wanna dance, I wanna win. I want that trophy, so
The Wolf: That's thirty minutes away. I'll be there in ten.
Jules: Normally, both of you would be dead as fucking fried chicken by now, but
since I'm in a transitional period, I don't want to kill either one of your
Jimmie: Well, the thing on my mind right now isn't the good coffee in my cup,
it's the dead nigger in my garage.
Jules: Whether or not what we experienced was an According to Hoyle miracle is
irrelevant. What is relevant is that I felt the touch of God. God got involved.
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, but it's the same ballpark.
Jules: It ain't no fuckin' ballpark either. Look maybe your method of massage
differs from mine, but touchin' a lady's feet, and stickin' your tongue in her
holiest of holies, ain't the same fuckin ballpark, it ain't the same league, it
ain't even the same fuckin' sport. Foot massages don't mean shit.
Jimmie: I'm gonna get divorced. No marriage counselling, no trial separation,
Yolanda: Any of you fuckin' pricks move, and I'll execute every mother fuckin'
last one of ya.
Vincent: And you know what they call a... a... a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in
Jules: They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with cheese?
Vincent: No 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: A "Royale" with cheese! What do they call a Big Mac?
Vincent: A Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call it "le Big-Mac".
Jules: "Le Big-Mac"! Ha ha ha ha! What do they call a Whopper?
Vincent: I dunno, I didn't go into Burger King.
Vincent: We should have shotguns for this.
Butch: You okay?
Marsellus: Naw man. I'm pretty fuckin' far from okay!
Butch: What now?
Marsellus: What now? Well let me tell you what now. I'm gonna call a couple of
pipe-hittin' niggers, who'll go to work on homes here with a pair of pliers and
a blow torch. Hear me talkin' hillbilly boy? I ain't through with you by a damn
sight. I'm gonna get medieval on your ass.
Jules: Now Yolanda, we're not gonna do anything stupid, are we?
Yolanda: You don't hurt him!
Jules: Nobody's gonna hurt anybody. We're gonna be like three little Fonzies
here. And what's Fonzie like? Come on Yolanda what's Fonzie like?!
Yolanda: He's cool.
Jules: Correctamundo! And that's what we're gonna be. We're gonna be cool. Now
Ringo, I'm gonna count to three, and when I count three, you let go of your gun,
and sit your ass down. But when you do it, you do it cool. Ready?
[Ringo sits down opposite Jules]
Yolanda: Alright, now you let him go.
Jules: Yolanda, I thought you said you were gonna be cool. Now when you yell at
me, it makes me nervous. And when I get nervous, I get scared. And when
motherfuckers get scared, that's when motherfuckers accidentally get shot.
Yolanda: You just know, you touch him, you die.
Jules: Well, that seems to be the situation. But I don't want that. And you
don't want that. And Ringo here *definitely* doesn't want that.
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 ballpark either. Look maybe your method of massage differs
from mine, but touchin' his lady's feet, and stickin' your tongue in her
holyiest of holies, ain't the same ballpark, ain't the same league, 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 man, I don't tickle or nothin'.
Vincent: Have you ever given a guy a foot massage?
Jules: Fuck you.
Vincent: How many?
Jules: Fuck you.
Vincent: Would you give me a foot massage? I'm kinda tired.
Jules: Man, you best back off, I'm gittin' pissed.
Jules: Check out the big brain on Brett.
Jules: What does Marcellus Wallace look like?
Jules: [pointing his gun] Say "what" again. SAY "WHAT"
AGAIN! I dare you, I double dare you, motherfucker! Say "what" one
more goddamn time!
Brett: He's b-b-black...
Jules: Go on.
Brett: He's bald...
Jules: Does he look like a bitch?
[Jules shoots Brett in shoulder]
Jules: DOES HE LOOK LIKE A BITCH?
Jules: Then why you trying 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 Marcellus
Wallace don't like to be fucked by anybody, except Mrs. Wallace.
[Jules shoots the guy on the couch during Brett's interrogation]
Jules: Oh, I'm sorry. Did I break your concentration?
Marsellus: No one needs to know about this except you, me and Mr.
Vincent: That's a pretty fucking good milkshake. I don't know if it's worth five
dollars but it's pretty fucking good.
[Marcellus is telling Butch to take a dive.]
Marsellus: The night of the fight, you may feel a slight sting. That's pride
fucking with you. Fuck pride. Pride only hurts, it never helps.
[Ezekiel 25:17 among others]
Jules: 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 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 would attempt to
poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay
my vengeance upon thee.
[Vincent goes up to Butch at the bar]
Butch: What're you looking at, friend?
Vincent: I ain't your friend, palooka.
Butch: What did you say?
Vincent: I think you heard me just fine, punchy.
[After a long pause in their conversation]
Mia: Don't you hate that?
Vincent: Hate what?
Mia: Uncomfortable silences.
Lance: You're going to give her an injection of adrenaline directly to her
Vincent: Then what happens?
Lance: I'm curious about that myself.
Marsellus: I'm prepared to scour the the Earth for that motherfucker. If Butch
goes to Indochina, I want a nigger waiting in a bowl of rice ready to pop a cap
in his ass.
Butch: I think I have a broken rib.
Fabienne: From giving me oral pleasure?
Fabienne: Whose motorcycle is this?
Butch: It's a chopper, baby.
Fabienne: Whose chopper is this?
Butch: It's Zed's.
Fabienne: Who's Zed?
Butch: Zed's dead, baby. Zed's dead.
Captain Koons: The way your dad looked at it, this watch was your birthright.
He'd be damned if any of the slopes were gonna get their greasy yellow hands on
his boy's birthright. So he hid it in the one place he knew he could hide
something: his ass. Five long years, he wore this watch up his ass. Then when he
died of dysentery, he gave me the watch. I hid this uncomfortable piece of metal
up my ass for two years. Then, after seven years, I was sent home to my family.
And now, little man, I give the watch to you.
Esmeralda: What is your name?
Esmeralda: What does it mean?
Butch: I'm American, honey. Our names don't mean shit.
[Jules and Vinnie take Marvin with them in their car and Vinnie's gun goes off
and blows Marvin's head off]
Jules: Oh! Fuck's happening!
Vincent: Man, I shot Marvin in the face.
Jules: Why the fuck did you do that! Oh man I've seen some crazy ass shit in my
Vincent: Chill out, man. I told you it was an accident. You probably went over a
bump or something.
Jules: Hey, the car didn't hit no motherfucking bump.
Vincent: Hey, look man, I didn't mean to shoot the son of a bitch! The gun went
off. I don't know why.
Jules: Well look at this fucking mess, man. We're on a city street in broad
Vincent: I don't believe it.
Jules: Well believe it now, motherfucker! We gotta get this car off the road.
You know cops tend to notice shit like your driving a car drenched in fucking
Vincent: Take it to a friendly place, that's all.
Jules: We're in the Valley, Vincent! Marcellus ain't got no friendly places in
Vincent: Well Jules this ain't my fucking town! Shit! What you doin'?
[Jules dials a number on his cellular phone]
Jules: I'm calling my partner in Toluca Lake.
Vincent: Where's Toluca Lake?
Jules: Just over the hill here over by Burbank Studios. If Jimmie's ass ain't
home, I don't know what the fuck we're going to do, man. 'Cause I ain't got no
other partners in 8-1-8. Hey Jimmie, yo, how you doin'? It's Jules. Listen up
man. Me and my homeboy are in serious fucking shit. We're in a car and we gotta
get off the road, pronto. I need to use your garage for a couple of hours.
Lance: Are you calling me on a cell phone? I don't know you. Prank caller, prank
Jimmie: Now let me ask you a question, Jules. When you drove in here, did you
notice a sign out in front that said, "Dead nigger storage"?
Jimmie: Answer the question! Did you see a sign out in front of my house that
said "Dead nigger storage"?
Jules: Naw man, I didn't.
Jimmie: You know why you didn't see that sign?
Jimmie: 'Cause storin' dead niggers ain't my fuckin' business!
Jules: I don't wanna hear about no motherfuckin' ifs. All I wanna hear from yo'
ass is, "You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the motherfucker. Go back
in there, chill them niggaz out and wait for the calvery which should be coming
Marsellus: You ain't got no problem Jules. I'm on the moterfucker. Go back in
there, chill them niggaz out and wait for the Wolf who should be coming
[Winston Wolf takes exception to Vincent's taking exception to his brusque
The Wolf: So, pretty please - with sugar on top ... clean the fuckin' car!
Jimmie: I can't believe this is the same car!
The Wolf: Well, let's not start sucking each other's dicks just yet.
Vincent: Bacon tastes gooood. Pork chops taste gooood.
Vincent: Jules, if you give that fuckin' nimrod fifteen hundred dollars, I'm
gonna shoot him on general principles.
Jules: Hey, sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie but I'd never know 'cause I
wouldn't eat the filthy motherfuckers. Pigs sleep and root in shit. That's a
filthy animal. I ain't eat nothin' that ain't got enough sense to disregard its
Vincent: How about a dog? Dogs eat their own feces.
Jules: I don't eat dog either.
Vincent: Yeah, but do you consider a dog to be a filthy animal?
Jules: I wouldn't go so far as to call a dog filthy but they're definitely
dirty. But, a dog's got personality. Personality goes a long way.
Vincent: Ah, so by that rationale, if a pig had a better personality, it'd cease
to be a filthy animal. Is that true?
Jules: Well we gotta be talkin' about one charmin' motherfuckin' pig. I mean
he'd have to be ten times more charmin' than that Arnold on Green Acres, you
know what I'm sayin'?
Jules: We're all gonna be three little Fonzies - and what was Fonzie?!
Jules: Yolanda, I thought you were gonna be cool. When you yell at me, it makes
me nervous. When I get nervous, I get scared. And when motherfuckers get scared,
that's when motherfuckers get accidentally shot.
Jules: Hand me my wallet.
Pumpkin: Which one is it?
Jules: It's the one with "bad motherfucker" written on it.
Jules: Wanna know what I'm buyin' Ringo?
Jules: Your life. I'm givin' you that money so I don't hafta kill your ass. You
read the Bible?
Pumpkin: Not regularly.
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." I been sayin' that shit for years. And if you ever heard it, it
meant your ass. I never really questioned what it meant. I thought it was just a
cold-blooded thing to say to a motherfucker before you popped a cap in his ass.
But I saw some shit this mornin' made me think twice. Now I'm thinkin': it could
mean 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 be
you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and
selfish. 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 tryin', Ringo. I'm tryin' real
hard to be a shepherd.
Jules: Oh man, I will never forgive yo ass for this. This is some fucked-up,
Vincent: Jules, did you ever hear the philosophy that once a man admits he's
wrong, then he's automatically forgiven of that wrongdoing?
Jules: Man, get out of my face with that shit! The motherfucker who said that
never had to pick up itty bitty pieces of skull on account of your dumb ass!
Maynard: Nobody kills anybody in my place of business except me or Zed.
[Cleaning their bloody hands.]
Jules: Fuck, nigger, what did you do to his towel?
Vincent: I was dryin' my hands.
Jules: You're supposed to wash 'em first.
Vincent: You watched me wash 'em.
Jules: I watched you get 'em wet.
Vincent: I washed 'em. This shit's hard to get off. Maybe if I had Lava or
something, I coulda done a better job.
Jules: I used the same fuckin' soap you did and when I got finished, the towel
didn't look like no god-damn Maxi-Pad!!
Jules: If my answers frighten you then you should cease asking scary questions.
The Wolf: You guys look like... What do they look like, Jimmie?
Jimmie: Dorks. They look like a couple of dorks.
Jules: Ha-ha-ha. They're your clothes, motherfucker.
Lance: Look, you brought her here, and that means that you're giving her the
shot. The day that I bring an OD-ing bitch over to your house, then I'll give
her the shot.
The Wolf: You see that, young lady? Respect. Respect for one's elders gives
Raquel: I have character.
The Wolf: Just because you are a character doesn't mean that you have character.