& Ringo: Everybody be cool! This is a robbery!
Yolanda: Any of you fucking pricks move, and I’ll execute every motherfuckin’ last one of you.
& Jules: Hash is legal there in Amsterdam, right?
Vincent: Yeah, it’s legal, but it ain’t a hundred percent legal. I mean, you can’t just walk into a restaurant, roll a joint and start puffing away. You’re only supposed to smoke in your home or certain designated places.
Jules: And those are hashbars?
Vincent: Yeah. It breaks down like this. It’s legal to buy it. It’s legal to own it. And if you’re the proprietor of a hash bar, it’s legal to sell it. It’s illegal to carry it, but-but that doesn’t matter, ’cause get a load of this. If you get stopped by a cop in Amsterdam, it’s illegal for them to search you. I mean, that’s a right the cops in Amsterdam don’t have.
Jules: Oh, man! I’m goin’. That’s all there is to it. I’m fuckin’ goin’.
Vincent: I know, baby. You’d dig it the most.
& Vincent: You know what the funniest thing about Europe is?
Jules: What?
Vincent: I mean, they got the same shit over there that they got here, but it’s just there, it’s a little different.
Jules: Example.
Vincent: You can walk into a movie theater in Amsterdam and buy a beer. And I don’t mean just like no paper cup. I’m talkin’ about a glass of beer. And in Paris, you can buy a beer in McDonald’s. You know what they call... a Quarter-Pounder with Cheese in Paris?
Jules: They don’t call it a Quarter-Pounder with Cheese?
Vincent: They got the metric system. They wouldn’t know what the fuck a Quarter-Pounder is.
Jules: What do they call it?
Vincent: They call it a Royale with Cheese.
Jules: Royale with Cheese.
Vincent: That’s right.
Jules: What do they call a Big Mac?
Vincent: Big Mac’s a Big Mac, but they call it Le Big Mac.
Jules: Le Big Mac. What do they call a Whopper?
Vincent: I don’t know. I didn’t go into Burger King.
& Vincent: You know what they put on French fries in Holland instead of ketchup?
Jules: What?
Vincent: Mayonnaise.
Jules: Goddamn!
Vincent: I seen ’em do it, man. They fuckin’ drown ’em in that shit.
Jules: Yuck.
& Jules: We should have shotguns for this kind of deal.
Vincent: How many up there?
Jules: Three or four.
Vincent: That’s countin’ our guy?
Jules: Not sure.
Vincent: So that means there could be up to five guys up there?
Jules: It’s possible.
Vincent: We should have fuckin’ shotguns.
& Jules: What time you got?
Vincent: 7:22 in the a.m.
Jules: No, it ain’t quite time yet. Come on. Let’s hang back.
& Vincent: I ain’t sayin’ it’s right, but you sayin’ a foot massage don’t mean nothin’. I’m sayin’ it does. Now, look, I’ve given a million ladies a million foot massages, and they all meant somethin’. We act like they don’t, but they do. That’s what’s so fuckin’ cool about them. There’s a sensuous thing goin’ on... where you don’t talk about it, but you know it and she knows it. Fuckin’ Marsellus knew it. And Antwan should’ve fuckin’ better known better. That’s his fuckin’ wife, man. This ain’t a man with a sense of humor about this shit. You know what I’m sayin’?
Jules: It’s an interestin’ point.
& Jules: Come on. Let’s get into character.
& Jules: Oh, I’m sorry, did I break your concentration? I didn’t mean to do that. Please. Continue. You were saying something about «best intentions.»
& Jules: Oh, you were finished! Oh, well, allow me to retort. What does Marsellus Wallace look like?
Brett: What?
Jules: What country you from?
Brett: What?
Jules: «What» ain’t no country I ever heard of. They speak English in What?
Brett: W-What?
Jules: English, motherfucker! Do you speak it?
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Then you know what I’m sayin’!
Brett: Yes.
Jules: Describe what Marsellus Wallace looks like!
Brett: What? L...
Jules: Say «what» again! Say «what» again! I dare ya! I double dare you, motherfucker! Say «what» one more goddamn time!
Brett: H-H-He’s black.
Jules: Go on!
Brett: He’s bald!
Jules: Does he look like a bitch?
Brett: What?
Jules: Does he look... like a bitch?
Brett: No!
Jules: Then why you tryin’ to fuck him like a bitch?
Brett: I didn’t.
Jules: Yes, you did. Yes, you did, Brett! You tried to fuck him.
Brett: No, no!
Jules: But Marsellus Wallace don’t like to be fucked by anybody except Mrs. Wallace. You read the Bible, Brett?
& Jules: You read the Bible, Brett?
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Well, there’s this passage I got memorized. Sort of fits this occasion. 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 goodwill, 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 attempt to poison and destroy My brothers! And you will know My name is the Lord... when I lay My vengeance upon thee!»
& Marsellus: You my nigger?
Butch: Certainly appears so.
Marsellus: The night of the fight, you may feel a slight sting. That’s pride fuckin’ with you. Fuck pride! Pride only hurts. It never helps.
& Mia: Don’t you hate that?
Vincent: Hate what?
Mia: Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it’s necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?
Vincent: I don’t know. That’s a good question.
Mia: That’s when you know you found somebody really special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably share silence.
& Mia: Don’t you just love it when you come back from the bathroom to find your food waiting for you?
& Vincent: Let’s just forget it.
Mia: That’s an impossibility. Trying to forget anything as intriguing as this would be an exercise in futility.
Vincent: Is that a fact?
& Lance: If you’re all right, then say something.
Mia: Something.
& Vincent: Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go home and have a heart attack.
& Esmaralda: And what is your name?
Butch: Butch.
Esmaralda: Butch. What does it mean?
Butch: I’m an American, honey. Our names don’t mean shit.
& Butch: I’ll be back before you can say «blueberry pie.»
Fabienne: Blueberry pie.
Butch: Maybe not that fast.
& Marsellus: I’ll be damned.
& Maynard: Nobody kills anybody in my place of business... Except me or Zed. That’s Zed.
& Butch: You okay?
Marsellus: No, man. I’m pretty fuckin’ far from okay.
& Butch: What now?
Marsellus: «What now»? Let me tell you what now. I’m gonna call a couple of hard, pipe-hittin’ niggers... to go to work on the homes here... with a pair of pliers and a blowtorch. You hear me talkin’, hillbilly boy? I ain’t through with you by a damn sight! I’m gonna get medieval on your ass.
& Fabienne: Butch, whose motorcycle is this?
Butch: It’s a chopper, baby.
Fabienne: Whose chopper is this?
Butch: Zed’s.
Fabienne: Who’s Zed?
Butch: Zed’s dead, baby. Zed’s dead.
& Jules: We should be fuckin’ dead, my friend! What happened here was a miracle, and I want you to fucking acknowledge it!
Vincent: All right, it was a miracle. Can we go now?
& The Wolf: You’re... Jimmie, right? This is your house?
Jimmie: It sure is.
The Wolf: I’m Winston Wolf. I solve problems.
Jimmie: Good. We got one.
& Vincent: Mr. Wolf, listen. I don’t mean disrespect, okay? I respect you. I just don’t like people barkin’ orders at me.
The Wolf: If I’m curt with you, it’s because time is a factor. I think fast, I talk fast, and I need you guys to act fast if you wanna get out of this. So pretty please, with sugar on top, clean the fuckin’ car.
& Jules: Mr. Wolf, I just wanna tell you it was a real pleasure watching you work.
Vincent: Yeah, really. And thank you very much, Mr. Wolf.
The Wolf: Call me Winston.
& The Wolf: You see that, young lady? Respect. Respect for one’s elders shows character.
Raquel: I have character.
The Wolf: Because you are a character doesn’t mean that you have character.
& Vincent: Want some bacon?
Jules: No, man, I don’t eat pork.
Vincent: Are you Jewish?
Jules: I ain’t Jewish; I just don’t dig on swine, that’s all.
Vincent: Why not?
Jules: Pigs are filthy animals. I don’t eat filthy animals.
Vincent: Yeah, but bacon tastes good. Pork chops taste good.
Jules: Sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I’d never know... ’cause I wouldn’t eat the filthy motherfuckers. Pigs sleep and root in shit. That’s a filthy animal. I ain’t eatin’ nothin’ ain’t got sense enough to disregard its own feces.
Vincent: What about a dog? Dog eats its own feces.
Jules: I don’t eat dog either.
Vincent: Yeah, but do you consider a dog to be a filthy animal?
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.
Vincent: Ah, so, by that rationale, if a pig had a better personality, he would cease to be a filthy animal. Is that true?
Jules: We’d have to be talkin’ about one charming motherfuckin’ pig. I mean, he’d have to be ten times more charming than that Arnold on Green Acres, you know what I’m sayin’?
& Vincent: Jules, look, what happened this morning, man, I agree it was peculiar. But water into wine, I...
Jules: All shapes and sizes, Vincent.
Vincent: Don’t fuckin’ talk to me that way, man!
Jules: If my answers frighten you, then you should cease asking scary questions.
& Ringo: What’s in the case?
Jules: My boss’s dirty laundry.
Ringo: Your boss makes you do his laundry?
Jules: When he wants it clean.
Ringo: Sounds like a shit job.
Jules: Funny, I was thinkin’ the same thing.
& Jules: You read the Bible, Ringo?
Ringo: Not regularly, no.
Jules: Well, there’s this 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 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 heard it, that meant your ass.
I never gave much thought to what it meant. I just thought it was some coldblooded shit to say to a motherfucker... before I popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this morning made me think twice. See, now I’m thinkin’ maybe it means... you’re the evil man, and I’m the righteous man, and Mr. 9-millimeter here, he’s the shepherd... protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness.
Or it could mean... you’re the righteous man, and I’m the shepherd, and it’s the world that’s evil and selfish. Now, I’d like that. But that shit 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 the shepherd.
& Vincent: I think we should be leaving now.
Jules: Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.
--
+++ quotes on the IMDb
+ Soundtrack!
Yolanda: Any of you fucking pricks move, and I’ll execute every motherfuckin’ last one of you.
& Jules: Hash is legal there in Amsterdam, right?
Vincent: Yeah, it’s legal, but it ain’t a hundred percent legal. I mean, you can’t just walk into a restaurant, roll a joint and start puffing away. You’re only supposed to smoke in your home or certain designated places.
Jules: And those are hashbars?
Vincent: Yeah. It breaks down like this. It’s legal to buy it. It’s legal to own it. And if you’re the proprietor of a hash bar, it’s legal to sell it. It’s illegal to carry it, but-but that doesn’t matter, ’cause get a load of this. If you get stopped by a cop in Amsterdam, it’s illegal for them to search you. I mean, that’s a right the cops in Amsterdam don’t have.
Jules: Oh, man! I’m goin’. That’s all there is to it. I’m fuckin’ goin’.
Vincent: I know, baby. You’d dig it the most.
& Vincent: You know what the funniest thing about Europe is?
Jules: What?
Vincent: I mean, they got the same shit over there that they got here, but it’s just there, it’s a little different.
Jules: Example.
Vincent: You can walk into a movie theater in Amsterdam and buy a beer. And I don’t mean just like no paper cup. I’m talkin’ about a glass of beer. And in Paris, you can buy a beer in McDonald’s. You know what they call... a Quarter-Pounder with Cheese in Paris?
Jules: They don’t call it a Quarter-Pounder with Cheese?
Vincent: They got the metric system. They wouldn’t know what the fuck a Quarter-Pounder is.
Jules: What do they call it?
Vincent: They call it a Royale with Cheese.
Jules: Royale with Cheese.
Vincent: That’s right.
Jules: What do they call a Big Mac?
Vincent: Big Mac’s a Big Mac, but they call it Le Big Mac.
Jules: Le Big Mac. What do they call a Whopper?
Vincent: I don’t know. I didn’t go into Burger King.
& Vincent: You know what they put on French fries in Holland instead of ketchup?
Jules: What?
Vincent: Mayonnaise.
Jules: Goddamn!
Vincent: I seen ’em do it, man. They fuckin’ drown ’em in that shit.
Jules: Yuck.
& Jules: We should have shotguns for this kind of deal.
Vincent: How many up there?
Jules: Three or four.
Vincent: That’s countin’ our guy?
Jules: Not sure.
Vincent: So that means there could be up to five guys up there?
Jules: It’s possible.
Vincent: We should have fuckin’ shotguns.
& Jules: What time you got?
Vincent: 7:22 in the a.m.
Jules: No, it ain’t quite time yet. Come on. Let’s hang back.
& Vincent: I ain’t sayin’ it’s right, but you sayin’ a foot massage don’t mean nothin’. I’m sayin’ it does. Now, look, I’ve given a million ladies a million foot massages, and they all meant somethin’. We act like they don’t, but they do. That’s what’s so fuckin’ cool about them. There’s a sensuous thing goin’ on... where you don’t talk about it, but you know it and she knows it. Fuckin’ Marsellus knew it. And Antwan should’ve fuckin’ better known better. That’s his fuckin’ wife, man. This ain’t a man with a sense of humor about this shit. You know what I’m sayin’?
Jules: It’s an interestin’ point.
& Jules: Come on. Let’s get into character.
& Jules: Oh, I’m sorry, did I break your concentration? I didn’t mean to do that. Please. Continue. You were saying something about «best intentions.»
& Jules: Oh, you were finished! Oh, well, allow me to retort. What does Marsellus Wallace look like?
Brett: What?
Jules: What country you from?
Brett: What?
Jules: «What» ain’t no country I ever heard of. They speak English in What?
Brett: W-What?
Jules: English, motherfucker! Do you speak it?
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Then you know what I’m sayin’!
Brett: Yes.
Jules: Describe what Marsellus Wallace looks like!
Brett: What? L...
Jules: Say «what» again! Say «what» again! I dare ya! I double dare you, motherfucker! Say «what» one more goddamn time!
Brett: H-H-He’s black.
Jules: Go on!
Brett: He’s bald!
Jules: Does he look like a bitch?
Brett: What?
Jules: Does he look... like a bitch?
Brett: No!
Jules: Then why you tryin’ to fuck him like a bitch?
Brett: I didn’t.
Jules: Yes, you did. Yes, you did, Brett! You tried to fuck him.
Brett: No, no!
Jules: But Marsellus Wallace don’t like to be fucked by anybody except Mrs. Wallace. You read the Bible, Brett?
& Jules: You read the Bible, Brett?
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Well, there’s this passage I got memorized. Sort of fits this occasion. 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 goodwill, 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 attempt to poison and destroy My brothers! And you will know My name is the Lord... when I lay My vengeance upon thee!»
& Marsellus: You my nigger?
Butch: Certainly appears so.
Marsellus: The night of the fight, you may feel a slight sting. That’s pride fuckin’ with you. Fuck pride! Pride only hurts. It never helps.
& Mia: Don’t you hate that?
Vincent: Hate what?
Mia: Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it’s necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?
Vincent: I don’t know. That’s a good question.
Mia: That’s when you know you found somebody really special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably share silence.
& Mia: Don’t you just love it when you come back from the bathroom to find your food waiting for you?
& Vincent: Let’s just forget it.
Mia: That’s an impossibility. Trying to forget anything as intriguing as this would be an exercise in futility.
Vincent: Is that a fact?
& Lance: If you’re all right, then say something.
Mia: Something.
& Vincent: Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go home and have a heart attack.
& Esmaralda: And what is your name?
Butch: Butch.
Esmaralda: Butch. What does it mean?
Butch: I’m an American, honey. Our names don’t mean shit.
& Butch: I’ll be back before you can say «blueberry pie.»
Fabienne: Blueberry pie.
Butch: Maybe not that fast.
& Marsellus: I’ll be damned.
& Maynard: Nobody kills anybody in my place of business... Except me or Zed. That’s Zed.
& Butch: You okay?
Marsellus: No, man. I’m pretty fuckin’ far from okay.
& Butch: What now?
Marsellus: «What now»? Let me tell you what now. I’m gonna call a couple of hard, pipe-hittin’ niggers... to go to work on the homes here... with a pair of pliers and a blowtorch. You hear me talkin’, hillbilly boy? I ain’t through with you by a damn sight! I’m gonna get medieval on your ass.
& Fabienne: Butch, whose motorcycle is this?
Butch: It’s a chopper, baby.
Fabienne: Whose chopper is this?
Butch: Zed’s.
Fabienne: Who’s Zed?
Butch: Zed’s dead, baby. Zed’s dead.
& Jules: We should be fuckin’ dead, my friend! What happened here was a miracle, and I want you to fucking acknowledge it!
Vincent: All right, it was a miracle. Can we go now?
& The Wolf: You’re... Jimmie, right? This is your house?
Jimmie: It sure is.
The Wolf: I’m Winston Wolf. I solve problems.
Jimmie: Good. We got one.
& Vincent: Mr. Wolf, listen. I don’t mean disrespect, okay? I respect you. I just don’t like people barkin’ orders at me.
The Wolf: If I’m curt with you, it’s because time is a factor. I think fast, I talk fast, and I need you guys to act fast if you wanna get out of this. So pretty please, with sugar on top, clean the fuckin’ car.
& Jules: Mr. Wolf, I just wanna tell you it was a real pleasure watching you work.
Vincent: Yeah, really. And thank you very much, Mr. Wolf.
The Wolf: Call me Winston.
& The Wolf: You see that, young lady? Respect. Respect for one’s elders shows character.
Raquel: I have character.
The Wolf: Because you are a character doesn’t mean that you have character.
& Vincent: Want some bacon?
Jules: No, man, I don’t eat pork.
Vincent: Are you Jewish?
Jules: I ain’t Jewish; I just don’t dig on swine, that’s all.
Vincent: Why not?
Jules: Pigs are filthy animals. I don’t eat filthy animals.
Vincent: Yeah, but bacon tastes good. Pork chops taste good.
Jules: Sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I’d never know... ’cause I wouldn’t eat the filthy motherfuckers. Pigs sleep and root in shit. That’s a filthy animal. I ain’t eatin’ nothin’ ain’t got sense enough to disregard its own feces.
Vincent: What about a dog? Dog eats its own feces.
Jules: I don’t eat dog either.
Vincent: Yeah, but do you consider a dog to be a filthy animal?
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.
Vincent: Ah, so, by that rationale, if a pig had a better personality, he would cease to be a filthy animal. Is that true?
Jules: We’d have to be talkin’ about one charming motherfuckin’ pig. I mean, he’d have to be ten times more charming than that Arnold on Green Acres, you know what I’m sayin’?
& Vincent: Jules, look, what happened this morning, man, I agree it was peculiar. But water into wine, I...
Jules: All shapes and sizes, Vincent.
Vincent: Don’t fuckin’ talk to me that way, man!
Jules: If my answers frighten you, then you should cease asking scary questions.
& Ringo: What’s in the case?
Jules: My boss’s dirty laundry.
Ringo: Your boss makes you do his laundry?
Jules: When he wants it clean.
Ringo: Sounds like a shit job.
Jules: Funny, I was thinkin’ the same thing.
& Jules: You read the Bible, Ringo?
Ringo: Not regularly, no.
Jules: Well, there’s this 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 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 heard it, that meant your ass.
I never gave much thought to what it meant. I just thought it was some coldblooded shit to say to a motherfucker... before I popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this morning made me think twice. See, now I’m thinkin’ maybe it means... you’re the evil man, and I’m the righteous man, and Mr. 9-millimeter here, he’s the shepherd... protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness.
Or it could mean... you’re the righteous man, and I’m the shepherd, and it’s the world that’s evil and selfish. Now, I’d like that. But that shit 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 the shepherd.
& Vincent: I think we should be leaving now.
Jules: Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.
--
+++ quotes on the IMDb
+ Soundtrack!
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