We're both getting old. All that we have left now are our memories. If you go to that party on Saturday night, you won't have those anymore. Tear up that invitation.
- We'll be back to pick you up in fifteen minutes.
- Take your time. I expect to be dead in four.
- You know how to pick this lock?
- Is this some black-shit again?
- Hey will you stop that racial shit? Are you a fuckin' locksmith or not?
- That guy was pissed.
- He'll feel better when he looks in the back seat.
- Shit! That was my gold bar!
I'm not interested in friends from those places, and I don't trust politicians! You're still acting like a street schmuck! You know, if we'd listened to you, we'd still be rolling out drunks for a living!
I like the stink of the streets. It makes me feel good. And I like the smell of it, it opens up my lungs. And it gives me a hard-on.