Pulp Fiction

[to Butch] The night of the fight, you may feel a slight sting. That's pride fucking with you. Fuck pride. Pride only hurts. It never helps. You fight through that shit.

[to Butch] This business is filled to the brim with unrealistic motherfuckers. Motherfuckers who thought their ass would age like wine. If you mean it turns to vinegar...it does. If you mean it gets better with age... it don't.

[Putting out a hit on Butch] I'm prepared to scour the earth for that motherfucker. If Butch goes to Indochina, I want a nigga hiding in a bowl of rice ready to pop a cap in his ass.

[Driving back to his apartment to retrieve his father’s gold watch] Shit! Of all the fucking things she could fucking forget, she forgets my father’s watch! I specifically reminded her; bedside table. On the kangaroo. I said the words “don’t forget my father’s watch”.