Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: Are you quitting on me?! Well, are you?! Then quit, you slimy fucking walrus-looking piece of shit! Get the fuck off of my obstacle! Get the fuck down off of my obstacle! Now! Move it! I'm going to rip your balls off, so you cannot contaminate the rest of the world! I will motivate you, Private Pyle, if it short-dicks every cannibal on the Congo!

Private Joker: The dead know only one thing: it's better to be alive.

Crazy Earl: These are great days we're living, bros! We are jolly green giants, walking the earth with guns. These people we wasted here today are the finest human beings we will ever know. After we rotate back to the world, we're gonna miss not having anyone around that's worth shooting.

Private Joker: Are those... live rounds?
Private Gomer Pyle: Seven-six-two millimeter. Full metal jacket.

Private Joker: My thoughts drift back to erect nipple wet dreams about Mary Jane Rottencrotch and the Great Homecoming Fuck Fantasy. I am so happy that I am alive, in one piece and short. I'm in a world of shit... yes. But I am alive. And I am not afraid.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: God has a hard on for Marines, because we kill everything we see. He plays His games, we play ours. To show our appreciation for so much power, we keep heaven packed with fresh souls. God was here before the marine corps, so you can give your heart to Jesus, but your ass belongs to the corps!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: Today you people are no longer maggots. Today you are Marines. You're part of a brotherhood.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: There is no racial bigotry here. I do not look down on niggers, kikes, wops or greasers. Here, you are all equally worthless.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: How tall are you, private?
Private Cowboy: Sir, five-foot-nine, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: Five-foot-nine, I didn't know they stacked shit that high.

Private Joker: Leonard, if Hartman finds us here, we'll be in a world of shit.
Private Gomer Pyle: I *am*... in a world... of shit.

Private Eightball: I guess they'd rather be alive than free. Poor dumb bastards.

Private Eightball: Personally, I think, uh ... they don't really want to be involved in this war. You know, I mean ... they sort of took away our freedom and gave it to the, to the gookers, you know. But they don't want it. They'd rather be alive than free, I guess. Poor dumb bastards.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: Who said that? Who the fuck said that? Who's the slimy little communist shit, tinkle-toed cocksucker down here who just signed his own death warrant? Nobody, huh?! The fairy fucking godmother said it! Out-fucking-standing! I will PT you all until you fucking die! I'll PT you until your assholes are sucking buttermilk. (grabs private Cowboy) Was it you, you scroungy little fuck, huh?
Private Cowboy: Sir No Sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: You little piece of shit you look like a fucking worm, I bet it was you!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: Jesus Christ Pyle, don't try too hard. If God would have wanted you up there he would have miracled your ass up there, wouldn't he?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: Were you born worthless, or did you have to work at it?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: I bet you're the kind of guy that would fuck a person in the ass and not even have the god damned common courtesy to give him a reach around.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: A rifle is only a tool. It's a hard heart that kills. If your killer instincts are not clean and strong you will hesitate at the moment of truth. You will not kill. You will become dead Marines. And then you will be in a world of shit. Because Marines are not allowed to die without permission! Do you maggots understand?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: Private Pyle, I'm gonna give you three seconds, exactly three fuckin' seconds, to wipe that stupid lookin' grin off your face or I will gouge out your eyeballs and skull fuck you!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: Bullshit! It looks to me like the best part of you ran down the crack of your mama's ass and ended up as a brown stain on the mattress.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: What is your major malfunction, numbnuts? Didn't Mommy and Daddy show you enough attention when you were a child?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: Pyle, you had best unfuck yourself and start shitting me Tiffany cufflinks or I will definitely fuck you up!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: Pyle, you climb obstacles like old people fuck!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: You will give your rifle a girl's name because this is the only pussy you people are going to get. Your days of finger-banging ol' Mary J. Rottencrotch through her pretty pink panties are over!

Private Cowboy: You know there's not a single horse in the entire country of Vietnam? There's definitely something wrong with that.

Private Cowboy: I think what she's trying to say is that you black boys pack too much meat.

Pogue Colonel: Marine, what is that button on your body armor?
Private Joker: A peace symbol, sir.
Pogue Colonel: Where'd you get it?
Private Joker: I don't remember, sir.
Pogue Colonel: What is that you've got written on your helmet?
Private Joker: "Born to Kill," sir.
Pogue Colonel: You write "Born to Kill" on your helmet and you wear a peace button. What's that supposed to be, some kind of sick joke?!
Private Joker: No, sir.
Pogue Colonel: You'd better get your head and your ass wired together, or I will take a giant shit on you!
Private Joker: Yes, sir.
Pogue Colonel: Now answer my question or you'll be standing tall before the man.
Private Joker: I think I was trying to suggest something about the duality of man, sir.
Pogue Colonel: The what?
Private Joker: The duality of man. The Jungian thing, sir.
Pogue Colonel: Whose side are you on, son?
Private Joker: Our side, sir.
Pogue Colonel: Don't you love your country?
Private Joker: Yes, sir.
Pogue Colonel: Then how about getting with the program? Why don't you jump on the team and come on in for the big win?
Private Joker: Yes, sir!
Pogue Colonel: Son, all I've ever asked of my marines is that they obey my orders as they would the word of God. We are here to help the Vietnamese, because inside every gook there is an American trying to get out. It's a hardball world, son. We've gotta keep our heads until this peace craze blows over.
Private Joker: Aye-aye, sir.

Animal Mother: You a photographer?
Private Joker: I'm a combat correspondent.
Animal Mother: Well you seen much combat?
Private Joker: I've seen a little on TV.
Animal Mother: You're a real comedian.
Private Joker: Well they call me Joker.
Animal Mother: Well I got a joke for you. I'm gonna tear you a new asshole.
Private Joker: Well pilgrim, only after you eat the peanuts out of my shit.
Animal Mother: You talk the talk. Do you walk the walk?

Private Joker: I wanted to meet stimulating and interesting people of an ancient culture, and kill them. I wanted to be the first kid on my block to get a confirmed kill.

Animal Mother: If I'm gonna get my balls blown off for a word, my word is poontang.

Private Joker: A day without blood is like a day without sunshine.

Door Gunner: Anyone who runs is V.C. Anyone who stands still is well-disciplined V.C.

Private Joker: How can you shoot women and children?
Door Gunner: Easy... you don't lead 'em so much.
[laughs]
Door Gunner: Ain't war hell?!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: Hell I like you, you can come over to my house and fuck my sister.

Private Joker: I wanna slip my tube steak into your sister. What'll you take in trade?
Private Cowboy: What do you got?

Da Nang Hooker: Hey, you got girlfriend Vietnam? Me so horny. Me love you long time.

Private Eightball: What we have here, little yellow sister, is a magnificent specimen of pure Alabama Blacksnake. But it ain't too goddamned beau coup.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: Private Joker, do you believe in the Virgin Mary?
Private Joker: Sir, no sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: Well Private Joker, I don't believe I heard you correctly!
Private Joker: Sir, the private said "no sir," sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: Why you little maggot, you make me want to vomit!
[Slaps Joker]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: You goddamned communist heathen, you had best sound off that you love the Virgin Mary, or I'm gonna stomp your guts out!

Marines: [chanting] This is my rifle. There are many like it but this one is mine. My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. Without me, my rifle is useless. Without my rifle I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy, who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. I will. Before God I swear this creed: my rifle and myself are defenders of my country, we are the masters of my enemy, we are the saviors of my life. So be it, until there is no enemy, but peace. Amen.

Marines: [Chanting] This is my rifle.
[Grabbing their crotches.]
Marines: This is my gun. This is for fighting, and this is for fun.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, Drill Instructor: Who the fuck said that? Who's the slimy little communist shit, tinkle-toed cocksucker down here who just signed his own death warrant? Nobody, huh?! The fairy fucking godmother said it! Out-fucking-standing!

Private Cowboy: Tough break for Hand Job. He was all set to get shipped out on a medical.
Private Joker: What was the matter with him?
Private Cowboy: He was jerkin' off ten times a day.
Private Eightball: It's no shit. At least ten times a day.
Private Cowboy: Last week he was sent down to Da Nang to see the Navy head shrinker, and the crazy fucker starts jerking off in the waiting room. Instant Section Eight. He was just waiting for his papers to clear division.

Private Eightball: Personally, I think, uh... they don't really want to be involved in this war. You know, I mean... they sort of took away our freedom and gave it to the, to the gookers, you know. But they don't want it. They'd rather be alive than free, I guess. Poor dumb bastards.

Animal Mother: Well, if you ask me, uh, we're shooting the wrong gooks.

T.H.E. Rock: You're going home now.
Crazy Earl: Semper fi.
Donlon: We're mean marines, sir.
Private Eightball: Go easy, bros.
Animal Mother: Better you than me.

Private Joker: Is that you, John Wayne? Is this me?
Private Cowboy: Hey, start the cameras. This is "Vietnam-- the Movie!"
Private Eightball: Yeah, Joker can be John Wayne. I'll be a horse!
Donlon: T.H.E. Rock can be a rock!
T.H.E. Rock: I'll be Ann-Margret!
Doc Jay: Animal Mother can be a rabid buffalo!
Crazy Earl: I'll be General Custer!
Private Rafterman: Well, who'll be the Indians?
Animal Mother: Hey, we'll let the gooks play the Indians!