Pulp Fiction

PULP FICTION QUOTES

Vincent Vega: And you know what they call a... a... a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?
Jules Winnfield: They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with cheese?
Vincent Vega: No man, they got the metric system. They wouldn't know what the f--k a Quarter Pounder is.
Jules Winnfield: Then what do they call it?
Vincent Vega: They call it a "Royale" with cheese.
Jules Winnfield: A "Royale" with cheese! What do they call a Big Mac?
Vincent Vega: A Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call it "le Big-Mac".
Jules Winnfield: "Le Big-Mac"! Ha ha ha ha! What do they call a Whopper?
Vincent Vega: I dunno, I didn't go into Burger King.

Jules Winnfield: 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 Winnfield: What does Marcellus Wallace look like?
Brett: What?
Jules Winnfield: [pointing his gun] Say "what" again. SAY "WHAT" AGAIN! I dare you, I double dare you, motherf--ker! Say "what" one more goddamn time!
Brett: He's b-b-black...
Jules Winnfield: Go on.
Brett: He's bald...
Jules Winnfield: Does he look like a b--ch?
Brett: What?
Jules shoots Brett in shoulder
Jules Winnfield: DOES HE LOOK LIKE A B--CH?
Brett: NO!
Jules Winnfield: Then why you trying to f--k him like a b--ch, Brett?
Brett: I didn't!
Jules Winnfield: Yes you did. Yes you did, Brett. You tried to f--k him. And Marcellus Wallace don't like to be f--ked by anybody, except Mrs. Wallace.

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.

[Jules shoots the guy on the couch during Brett's interrogation]
Jules Winnfield: Oh, I'm sorry. Did I break your concentration?

Marcellus: The night of the fight, you may feel a slight sting. That's pride f--king with you. F--k pride. Pride only hurts, it never helps.

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.

Jules Winnfield: Whoa... whoa... whoa... stop right there. Eatin' a b--ch out, and givin' a b--ch a foot massage ain't even the same f--kin' thing.
Vincent Vega: Not the same thing, the same ballpark.
Jules Winnfield: 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 f--kin' sport. Foot massages don't mean s--t.
Vincent Vega: Have you ever given a foot massage?
Jules Winnfield: Don't be tellin' me about foot massages - I'm the foot f--kin' master.
Vincent Vega: Given a lot of 'em?
Jules Winnfield: S--t yeah. I got my technique down man, I don't tickle or nothin'.
Vincent Vega: Have you ever given a guy a foot massage?
Jules Winnfield: F--k you.
Vincent Vega: How many?
Jules Winnfield: F--k you.
Vincent Vega: Would you give me a foot massage? I'm kinda tired.
Jules Winnfield: Man, you best back off, I'm gittin' pissed.

Marcellus: I'm prepared to scour the the Earth for that motherf--ker. If Butch goes to Indochina, I want a n-gger waiting in a bowl of rice ready to pop a cap in his ass.

Vincent Vega: Man, I shot Marvin in the face.
Jules Winnfield: Why the f--k did you do that! Oh man I've seen some crazy ass s--t in my time!
Vincent Vega: Chill out, man. I told you it was an accident. You probably went over a bump or something.
Jules Winnfield: Hey, the car didn't hit no motherf--king bump.
Vincent Vega: Hey, look man, I didn't mean to shoot the son of a b---h! The gun went off. I don't know why.
Jules Winnfield: Well look at this f--king mess, man. We're on a city street in broad daylight.
Vincent Vega: I don't believe it.
Jules Winnfield: Well believe it now, motherf--ker! We gotta get this car off the road. You know cops tend to notice s--t like your driving a car drenched in f--king blood.
Vincent Vega: Take it to a friendly place, that's all

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 n-gger storage"?
Jules Winnfield: Jimmie...
Jimmie: Answer the question! Did you see a sign out in front of my house that said "Dead n-gger storage"?
Jules Winnfield: Naw man, I didn't.
Jimmie: You know why you didn't see that sign? 'Cause storin' dead n-ggers ain't my f--kin' business!

Jules Winnfield: I don't wanna hear about no motherf--kin' ifs. All I wanna hear from yo' ass is, "You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the motherf--ker. Go back in there, chill them n-ggaz out and wait for the calvery which should be coming directly."
Marcellus: You ain't got no problem Jules. I'm on the moterf--ker. Go back in there, chill them n-ggaz out and wait for the Wolf who should be coming directly.

Jules Winnfield: I'm a mushroom cloud laying motherf--ker, motherf--ker.

Vincent Vega: Jules, if you give that f--kin' nimrod fifteen hundred dollars, I'm gonna shoot him on general principles.

Jules Winnfield: Hey, sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie but I'd never know 'cause I wouldn't eat the filthy motherf--kers. Pig sleep and root in s--t. That's a filthy animal. I ain't eat nothin' that ain't got enough sense to disregard its own feces.
Vincent Vega: How about a dog? Dogs eat their own feces.
Jules Winnfield: I don't eat dog either.
Vincent Vega: Yeah, but do you consider a dog to be a filthy animal?
Jules Winnfield: 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 Vega: Ah, so by that rationale, if a pig had a better personality, it'd cease to be a filthy animal. Is that true?
Jules Winnfield: Well we gotta be talkin' about one charmin' motherf--kin' 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 Winnfield: We're all gonna be three little Fonzies - and what was Fonzie?!
Yolanda: Cool?
Jules Winnfield: Correct-a-mundo!

Jules Winnfield: 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 motherf--kers get scared, that's when motherf--kers get accidentally shot.

Jules Winnfield: Wanna know what I'm buyin' Ringo?
Pumpkin: What?
Jules Winnfield: Your life. I'm givin' you that money so I don't hafta kill your ass. You read the Bible?
Pumpkin: Not regularly.
Jules Winnfield: 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 motherf--ker before you popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some s--t 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. .45 here, he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or is could by 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 s--t 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.

Winston Wolf: You guys look like... What do they look like, Jimmie?
Jimmie: Dorks. They look like a couple of dorks.
Jules Winnfield: Ha-ha-ha. They're your clothes, motherf--ker.

Jules Winnfield: F--k, n-gger, what did you do to his towel?
Vincent Vega: I was dryin' my hands.
Jules Winnfield: You're supposed to wash 'em first.
Vincent Vega: You watched me wash 'em.
Jules Winnfield: I watched you get 'em wet.
Vincent Vega: I washed 'em. This s--t's hard to get off. Maybe if I had Lava or something, I coulda done a better job.
Jules Winnfield: I used the same f--kin' soap you did and when I got finished, the towel didn't look like no god-damn Maxi-Pad!!

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