Pulp Fiction...again...

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

Marsellus: No one needs to know about this except you, me and Mr. Soon-to-be-living-the-rest-of-
his-short-ass-life-in-agonizing-pain-rapist here.

Vincent: That's a pretty fucking good milkshake. I don't know if it's worth five dollars but it's pretty fucking good.

Marsellus: I'm prepared to scour the the Earth for that motherfucker. If Butch goes to Indochina, I
want a nigger waiting in a bowl of rice ready to pop a cap in his ass.
Esmeralda: What is your name?
Butch: Butch.
Esmeralda: What does it mean?
Butch: I'm American, honey. Our names don't mean shit.