I think, for sure, 'Saturday Night Fever' and 'Pulp Fiction' were kind of bookends for - or the pillars of - my career.
Esmeralda: What is your name? Butch: Butch. Esmeralda: What does it mean? Butch: I'm American, honey. Our names don't mean shit.
Butch: I think I cracked a rib. Fabienne: Giving me oral pleasure? Butch: No, retard, from the fight.
[last lines] Vincent: I think we should be leaving now. Jules: Yeah, that's probably a good idea.
Lance: Are you calling me on the cellular phone? I don't know you. Who is this? Don't come here, I'm hanging up the phone! Prank caller, prank caller!
Vincent: Jules, if you give that fuckin' nimrod fifteen hundred dollars, I'm gonna shoot him on general principles.
Vincent: [to Marvin] Why the fuck didn't you tell us somebody was in the bathroom? Slipped your mind? Did you forget that somebody was in there with a goddamn hand cannon?
Butch: Where's my watch? Fabienne: It's there. Butch: No it's not. Fabienne: It should be. Butch: Yes, it most definitely should be but it's not here now, so where the fuck is it?
Man #4: [Burst out of the bathroom with his gun] Die you motherfuckers! [He empties his entire gun, hitting nothing but air]
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.
Mia: [after snorting what she thinks is coke; it's heroin] I said God Damn! God Damn... [whispering] Mia: ...God damn... [passes out]
Destiny is like a book. It needs manufacturing, the pulp process, the glue fixed tightly--and it requires a binding, to hold it together, lest it fall apart.
If time heals all wounds, and a book can hold a person's entire life, then you can speed up the process with a pulp time warp.
I started off at the high level, in the slick magazines, but they didn't use my name, they used house names. Anyway, then I went downhill to the pulps, then downhill further to the comics.
Jules: I want you to go in that bag, and find my wallet. Pumpkin: Which one is it? Jules: It's the one that says Bad Motherfucker.
Marsellus: I'm prepared to scour the the Earth for that motherfucker. If Butch goes to Indochina, I want a nigger hiding in a bowl of rice ready to pop a cap in his ass.
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.
Jules: You know the shows on TV? Vincent: I don't watch TV. Jules: Yeah, but, you are aware that there's an invention called television, and on this invention they show shows, right?
Vincent: I'll have the Douglas Sirk steak, and a vanilla Coke. Buddy Holly: How would you like that? Burnt to a crisp or bloody as hell? Vincent: Bloody as hell.
Butch: I'll be back before you can say Blueberry pie. Fabienne: Blueberry pie. Butch: Okay, maybe not that fast. But pretty fast, alright?
Jules: I don't know why, I just thought he'd be European or something because he... Vincent: Yeah, man, he's about as European as fuckin' English Bob.
