Reservoir Dogs

Reservoir Dogs quotes

38 total quotes (ID: 492)

Mr. Blonde
Mr. Orange
Mr. Pink
Mr. White
Multiple Characters


Joe Cabot: So, you guys like to tell jokes, huh? Gigglin' and laughin' like a bunch of young broads sittin' in a schoolyard. Well, let me tell a joke. Four guys, sittin' in a bullpen, in San Quentin. All wondering how the **** they got there. What should we have done, what didn't we do, who's fault is it, is it my fault, your fault, his fault, all that bullshit. Then one of them says, hey. Wait a minute. When we were planning this caper, all we did was sit around tellin' ****in' jokes! Get the message? Boys, I don't mean to holler at ya. When this caper's over - and I'm sure it'll be a successful one - we'll get down to the Cayman Islands, hell, I'll roll and laugh with all of ya. You'll find me a different character down there. Right now, it's a matter of business.


Mr. Brown: Mr. Brown? That sounds too much like Mr. Shit.

Mr. Brown: You guys are, like, making me lose my train of thought, here. I was sayin' something, what was it?

Nice Guy Eddie: If you ****ing beat this prick long enough, he'll tell you he started the goddamn Chicago fire, now that don't necessarily make it ****ing so!

Joe Cabot: This man set us up.
Nice Guy Eddie: Dad I'm sorry but I really don't know what's going on here.
Joe Cabot: That's all right Eddie, I'll fill in the blanks for you.
Mr. White: What are you talking about.
Joe Cabot: That lump of shit's working for the LAPD.
Mr. Orange: Joe, I don't have the single, slightest ****ing idea what you're talking about.
Mr. White: Joe I don't know what you think you know, but you're wrong. I know this man, he wouldn't do that.
Joe Cabot: You don't know shit I do the **** tipped off the cops and got Mr. Brown and Mr. Blue killed.
Mr. Pink: Mr. Blue is dead?
Joe Cabot: Dead as Dillinger.
Mr. White: How do you know all of this?
Joe Cabot: He was the only one I wasn't a hundred percent on. I should have my ****ing head examined going in when I wasn't a hundred percent sure.
Mr. White: That's your proof?!
Joe Cabot: [Draws a gun and aims at Orange] You don't need proof when you got instinct. I ignored it before but no more.
[Mr. White draws a gun and aims at Joe. And Eddie draws a gun and aims at White.] Nice Guy Eddie: Have you lost your ****ing mind?
Mr. White: Joe you are making a mistake, I won't let you do it.
Mr. Pink: Come on guys. We're supposed to be acting like ****ing professionals.
Mr. White: Joe you shoot that man, you die next. Repeat: You shoot that man, you die next.
Nice Guy Eddie: Larry, it's been a long time, a lot of jobs. We've been through a lot of shit. You respect me and I respect you, but I will put bullets in your heart if you don't put that ****ing gun down now. Let's all just put our guns down and settle this with a ****ing conversation.
Mr. White: Goddamn you, Joe. Don't make me do this.
Nice Guy Eddie: LARRY YOU STOP POINTING THAT ****ING GUN AT MY DAD!
[White, Eddie, Joe and Orange are all shot simultaniously.]

Mr. Blonde: Hey Joe, you want me to shoot this guy?
Mr. White: [laughs] Shit... You shoot me in a dream, you better wake up and apologize.

Mr. Brown: I'm blind, man. I'm ****ing blind.
Mr. Orange: You're not blind, you've just got blood in your eyes.

Mr. Brown: O.K., let me tell you what Like a Virgin's about. It's all about this cooze who's a regular **** machine, I'm talking morning, day, night, afternoon, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick, dick.
Mr. Blue: How many dicks is that?
Mr. White: A lot.
Mr. Brown: Then one day she meets this John Holmes mother****er and it's like, whoa baby, I mean this cat is like Charles Bronson in the Great Escape, he's digging tunnels. Now, she's gettin' the serious dick action and she's feeling something she ain't felt since forever. Pain. Pain. It hurts her. It shouldn't hurt her, you know her pussy should be Bubble Yum by now, but when this cat ****s her it hurts. It hurts just like it did the first time. You see the pain is reminding a **** machine what it once was like to be a virgin. Hence, "Like a Virgin."


Mr. Orange: Oh God! Shit! I'm gonna die, Larry! I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die!
Mr. White: Just hold on, buddy boy!
Mr. Orange: I'm gonna die!
Mr. White: Hey!
Mr. Orange: I'm sorry! I can't...
Mr. White: Hey there!
Mr. Orange: The ****ing crawdad!
Mr. White: Hey! Just cancel that shit, right now! You're hurt, you're hurt real ****ing bad, but you ain't dying!
Mr. Orange: I'm gonna die! This blood's scaring the shit outta me, Larry! I'm gonna die, I know it!
Mr. White: Oh, excuse me, I didn't realise you had a degree in medicine! Uh... ah... are you a doctor? Are you a doctor? Answer me please! Are you a doctor? Huh?
Mr. Orange: No, I'm not.
Mr. White: OK! So you admit you don't know what you're talking about! So, when you're through giving me your ameteur opinion, just lie back and listen to the news! I'm taking you back to the rendezvous, Joe's gonna get you a doctor, the doctor's gonna fix you up, and you're gonna be ok! Now say it! You're gonna be ok! SAY IT! [sings] You're gonna be ok! Say the goddamn words, you're gonna be ok!
Mr. Orange: [groans] Oh, God!
Mr. White: [shouts] Say the goddamn ****ing words! Say it!
Mr. Orange: I'm ok, Larry
Mr. White: Correct! Correct!
Mr. Orange: I'm ok...

Mr. Orange: This is a very weird situation. 'Cause I don't know if you remember back in '86 there was a major ****ing drought. Nobody had anything. People were living on resin... -smoking the wood in their pipes for months. This chick had a bunch. And she's begging me to sell it. So I told her I wasn't going to be Joe the potman anymore, but I would take a little bit and sell it to my close, close, close friends. She agreed to that, said we'd keep the same arrangement as before; 10%, free pot for me, as long as I helped her out that weekend. She had a brick of weed she was selling, she didn't want to go to the buy alone. Her brother usually goes with her, but he's in county unexpectedly.
Mr. White: What for?
Mr. Orange: His traffic tickets. Got a warrant. They stopped him for something, found warrants on him, took him to county. Now she doesn't walk around alone with all that weed. I don't want to do this. I have a very bad feeling about it. But she keeps asking me, keeps asking me, keeps asking me, finally I said OK 'cause I'm sick of hearing it. Now, we're picking the guy up at the train station...
Nice Guy Eddie: Wait a minute. You go to the train station to pick up the buyer with the weed on you?
Mr. Orange: The guy needed it right away. Don't ask me why. Anyway, we're get to the station and we're waiting for the guy. I'm carrying the weed in one of those little carry-on bags. I got to take a piss. So I tell the connection I'll be right back, I'm going to the boys' room. So I walk in the mens' room, and who's standing there? Four Los Angeles county sheriffs and a German shepherd.
Nice Guy Eddie: They're waiting for you?
Mr. Orange: No, they're just a bunch of cops hanging out in the men's room, talking. When I walked through the door, they all stopped what they were talking about and they looked at me.
Mr. White: [laughs] That's hard, man. That's a ****ing hard situation.
Mr. Orange: German shepherd starts barking. He's barking at me. I mean, it's obvious. He's barking at me. Every nerve-ending, all my senses, blood in my veins, everything I have is screaming, "Take off, man! Just bail, just get the **** out of there!" Panic hits me like a bucket of water. First there's the shock of it--BAM, right in the face. I'm standing there drenched in panic. All these sheriffs looking at me, and they know, man. They can smell it. Sure as that ****ing dog can, they can smell it on me.

Mr. Orange: What happens if the manager won't give you the diamonds?
Mr. White: When you're dealing with a store like this, they're insured up the ass. They're not supposed to give you any resistance whatsoever. If you get a customer, or an employee, who thinks he's Charles Bronson, take the butt of your gun and smash their nose in. Everybody jumps. He falls down screaming, blood squirts out of his nose, nobody says ****ing shit after that. You might get some bitch talk shit to you, but give her a look like you're gonna smash her face next, watch her shut the **** up. Now if it's a manager, that's a different story. Managers know better than to **** around, so if you get one that's giving you static, he probably thinks he's a real cowboy, so you gotta break that son of a bitch in two. If you wanna know something and he won't tell you, cut off one of his fingers. The little one. Then tell him his thumb's next. After that he'll tell you if he wears ladies underwear. I'm hungry. Let's get a taco.

Mr. Pink: But why am I "Mr. Pink"?
Joe Cabot: Because you're a ****ing ****! All right?

Mr. Pink: This is so ****ing bad... Is it bad?
Mr. White: As opposed to good?

Mr. Pink: We ain't taking him to a hospital.
Mr. White: If we don't, he's gonna die.
Mr. Pink: And I'm very sad about that, but some fellas are lucky and some ain't.

Mr. Pink: You kill anybody?
Mr. White: A few cops.
Mr. Pink: No real people?
Mr. White: Just cops.