Jules: No, Mr. Wolf, it ain't like that...
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Vincent: I don't mean any disrespect, I just like people barking orders at me.Comment
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The Wolf: If I'm curt with you, it's because time is a factor here. I think fast, I talk fast, and I need you guys to act fast if you want to get out of this. So, pretty please - with sugar on top... clean the fuckin' car.Comment
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Jimmie: I can't believe this is the same car.Comment
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The Wolf: Well, let's not start sucking each other's dicks just yet.Comment
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Vincent: Jules, if you give that fuckin' nimrod fifteen hundred dollars, I'm gonna shoot him on general principles.Comment
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Vincent: Want some bacon?Comment
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Jules: No man, I don't eat pork.Comment
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Vincent: Are you Jewish?Comment
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Jules: Nah, I ain't Jewish, I just don't dig on swine, that's all.Comment
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Vincent: Why not?Comment
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Jules: Pigs are filthy animals. I don't eat filthy animals.Comment
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Vincent: Bacon tastes gooood. Pork chops taste gooood.Comment
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Jules: Hey, sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I'd never know 'cause I wouldn't eat the filthy motherfucker. Pigs sleep and root in shit. That's a filthy animal. I ain't eat nothin' that ain't got enough sense enough to disregard its own faeces.Comment
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Vincent: How about a dog? Dogs eats its own feces.Comment
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Jules: I don't eat dog either.Comment
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Vincent: Yeah, but do you consider a dog to be a filthy animal?Comment
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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.Comment
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Vincent: Ah, so by that rationale, if a pig had a better personality, he would cease to be a filthy animal. Is that true?Comment
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Butch: Will you hand me a towel, tulip?Comment
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Fabienne: Ah, I like that. I like tulip. Tulip is much better than mongoloid.Comment
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Marsellus: In the fifth, your ass goes down. Say it.Comment
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Butch: In the fifth, my ass goes down.Comment
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Mia: I do believe Marsellus Wallace, my husband, your boss, told you to take ME out and do WHATEVER I WANTED. Now I wanna dance, I wanna win. I want that trophy, so dance good.Comment
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The Wolf: That's thirty minutes away. I'll be there in ten.Comment
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Jules: Normally, both your asses would be dead as fucking fried chicken, but you happen to pull this shit while I'm in a transitional period so I don't wanna kill you, I wanna help you. But I can't give you this case, it don't belong to me. Besides, I've already been through too much shit this morning over this case to hand it over to your dumb ass.Comment
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[Jules, Vincent and Jimmie are drinking coffee in Jimmie's kitchen]Comment
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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?Comment
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Jimmie Dimmick: Knock it off, Julie.Comment
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Jules Winnfield: [pause] What?Comment
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Jimmie Dimmick: I don't need you to tell me how fucking 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. Me, I buy the gourmet expensive stuff because when I drink it I wanjt 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 hahahahahaha in my garage.Comment
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Jules Winnfield: Oh, Jimmie, don't even worry about that...Comment
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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 hahahahahaha Storage?"Comment
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Jules Winnfield: Jimmie, you know I ain't seen no...Comment
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Jimmie Dimmick: Did you see a sign out in front of my house that said "Dead hahahahahaha Storage?"Comment
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Jules Winnfield: [pause] No. I didn't.Comment
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Jimmie Dimmick: You know WHY you didn't see that sign?Comment
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Jules Winnfield: Why?Comment
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Jimmie Dimmick: 'Cause it ain't there, 'cause storing dead hahahahahahas ain't my fucking business, that's why!Comment
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Jules: Whether or not what we experienced was an According to Hoyle miracle is insignificant. What is significant is that I felt the touch of God. God got involved.Comment
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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.Comment
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Vincent: Not the same thing, the same ballpark.Comment
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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.Comment
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Vincent: Have you ever given a foot massage?Comment
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Jules: Don't be tellin' me about foot massages - I'm the foot fuckin' master.Comment
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Vincent: Given a lot of 'em?Comment
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Jules: Shit yeah. I got my technique down and everything, I don't be tickling or nothin'.Comment
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Vincent: Would you give a guy a foot massage?Comment
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Jules: Fuck you.Comment
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Vincent: You give them a lot?Comment
Comment