[after reporting the stolen car] The Dude: Do you find them much, these, stolen cars? Younger Cop: Sometimes. Wouldn't hold out much hope for the tape deck though. Older Cop: Or the Creedence.
The Dude: Your money is being held by a kid named Larry Sellers. Real fucking brat, but I'm sure your goons can get it off him. I mean, he's fifteen. [pause] The Dude: Flunking social studies.
Brandt: Her life is in your hands. The Dude: Man, don't say that, man. Brandt: Mr. Lebowski asked me to repeat that: her life is in your hands. The Dude: Oh, shit, man. Brandt: Her life is in your hands, Dude.
[after recovering his car from the Auto circus] The Dude: Oh, Jesus, what's that smell, man? Auto Circus Cop: Yes, probably a vagrant slept in the car. Or maybe just used it as a toilet and moved on.
Brandt: [the Dude is leaving after his first meeting with Lebowski] Well, enjoy. And perhaps we'll see you again some time, Dude. The Dude: Yeah, sure, if I'm... in the neighborhood and I, uh... gotta use the john.
The Dude: Uh, and then, uh, the music business, briefly. Maude Lebowski: Oh? The Dude: Yeah. Roadie for Metallica Maude Lebowski: Oh. The Dude: Speed of Sound Tour Maude Lebowski: Mm-hmm. The Dude: Bunch of assholes.
Woo, Treehorn Thug: Ever thus to deadbeats, Lebowski. [urinates on The Dude's rug] The Dude: Oh, man, don't do that. Not on the rug, man. Woo, Treehorn Thug: You see what happens? You see what happens, Lebowski?
Philip Marlowe: My, my, my! Such a lot of guns around town and so few brains! You know, you're the second guy I've met today that seems to think a gat in the hand means the world by the tail.
Vivian: So you do get up, I was beginning to think you worked in bed like Marcel Proust. Marlowe: Who's he? Vivian: You wouldn't know him, a French writer. Marlowe: Come into my boudoir.
General Sternwood: Do you like orchids? Philip Marlowe: Not particularly. General Sternwood: Ugh. Nasty things. Their flesh is too much like the flesh of men, and their perfume has the rotten sweetness of corruption.
Philip Marlowe: I can do what? Where? Oh no, I wouldn't like that. Neither would my daughter. [hangs up] Philip Marlowe: I hope the sergeant never traces that call.
Agnes Lowzier: Is Harry there? Philip Marlowe: Yeah, yeah, he's here. Agnes Lowzier: Put him on, will you? Philip Marlowe: He can't talk to you. Agnes Lowzier: Why? Philip Marlowe: Because he's dead.
Eddie Mars: Your story didn't sound quite right. Philip Marlowe: Oh, that's too bad. You got a better one? Eddie Mars: Maybe I can find one.
Philip Marlowe: [speaking into the phone] Hello, let me talk to Mr. Mars. Eddie Mars: This is Mars. Philip Marlowe: Oh, hello Eddie. This is Marlowe. Eddie Mars: Marlowe? Philip Marlowe: Yeah, Marlowe. Or, what's left of him.
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Top Dollar: No, I want you to set a fire so goddamn big, the gods'll notice us again, that's what I'm sayin'. I want all of you boys to be able to look me straight in the eye one more time and say: ARE WE HAVING FUN OR WHAT? Hey, you! What's your nam...
