All my life I've tried to be the good guy, the guy in the white fucking hat. And for what? For nothing. I'm not becoming like them; I am them.
Twenty years you know a guy, you fuckin' whack him out just like that over a lounge? That's beautiful.
I have all the characteristics of a human being: blood, flesh, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust. Something horrible is happening inside of me and I don't know why. My nightly bloodlust has overflown into my days. I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.
When I introduce you, I'm gonna say, "This is a friend of mine." That means you're a connected guy. Now if I said instead, this is a friend of ours that would mean you a made guy. A Capiche?
I believe in taking care of myself and a balanced diet and rigorous exercise routine. In the morning if my face is a little puffy I'll put on an ice pack while doing stomach crunches. I can do 1000 now.
I don't want to get you drunk, but, ah, that's a very fine Chardonnay you're not drinking.
Look at that subtle off-white coloring. The tasteful thickness of it. Oh my God, it even has a watermark!
A wise guy's always right; even when he's wrong, he's right.