Jules: What does Marsellus Wallace look like?
Brett: What?
Jules: [Flips table out of the way] What country are you from?
Brett: What?
Jules: "What" ain't no country I ever heard of! They speak English in "What?!"
Brett: What?
Jules: English, motherfucker! Do you speak it?
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Then you know what I'm saying. Describe what Marsellus Wallace looks like!
Brett: What?
Jules: [Points gun at Brett] Say "what" again! Say - "what" - again! I dare you! I double-dare you motherfucker! Say "what" one more goddamn time!
Brett: He's black.
Jules: Go on!
Brett: He's bald.
Jules: Does he look like a bitch?
Brett: What?
Jules: [Shoots Brett in the shoulder] Does he LOOK like a bitch?!
Brett: No!
Jules: Then why'd you try to fuck him like a bitch, Brett?
Brett: I didn't!
Jules: Yes, you did! Yes, you did, Brett! You tried to fuck him. And Marsellus Wallace don't like to be fucked by anybody except Mrs. Wallace. You read the Bible, Brett?
Brett: Yes!
Jules: Well, there's this passage I've got memorized that sort of fits this occasion. Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of the 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!"[1] [Shoots Brett]

There's this passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities 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 the 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."[1] 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 cold-blooded shit to say to a motherfucker before I popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this mornin' 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. 9mm 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. 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.

Jules: I don't wanna hear about no motherfuckin' ifs. All I wanna hear from your ass is, "You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the motherfucker. Go back in there, chill them niggers out and wait for the cavalry, which should be coming directly."
Marsellus: You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the motherfucker. Go back in there, chill them niggers out and wait for the Wolf, who should be coming directly.
Jules: You sending the Wolf??
Marsellus: Oh, you feel better, motherfucker?
Jules: Shit, negro, that's all you had to say.

Normally, both of your sorry asses would be deader than fucking fried chicken by now, but you happened to pull this shit while I'm in a transitional period so I don't wanna kill you, I wanna help you. But I can't give you what's in this case, it doesn't belong to me. Besides, I've already been through too much shit this morning over this case to just hand it over to your dumb asses.

Whether or not what we experienced was an 'According to Hoyle' miracle is insignificant. What is significant is that I felt the touch of God. God got involved.

Oh, I'm sorry. Did I break your concentration? After firing his gun.

Hamburgers! The cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast!

Jules: Whoa... whoa... whoa... stop right there. Eatin' a bitch out, and givin' a bitch a foot massage ain't even the same fuckin' thing.
Vincent: It's not, it's the same ballpark.
Jules: It ain't no fuckin' ballpark either. Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but you know, touchin' his wife's feet, and stickin' your tongue in her holiest of holies, ain't the same ballpark, it ain't the same league, it ain't even the same fuckin' sport. Foot massages don't mean shit.
Vincent: Have you ever given a foot massage?
Jules: Don't be tellin' me about foot massages - I'm the foot fuckin' master.
Vincent: Given a lot of 'em?
Jules: Shit yeah. I got my technique down and everything, I don't be tickling or nothin'.
Vincent:Would you give a guy a foot massage?
Jules: Fuck you.
Vincent: You give them a lot?
Jules: Fuck you.
Vincent: You know, I'm getting kinda tired, I could use a foot massage myself.
Jules: Yo yo yo man, you best back off, I'm gittin' pissed here. [...] Look, just 'cause I wouldn't give no man a foot massage don't make it right for Marsellus to throw Antoine into a glass motherfuckin' house fuckin' up the way the nigger talks. That shit ain't right. Motherfucker do that shit to me, he better paralyze my ass cuz I'll kill the motherfucker, you know what I'm sayin'?
Vincent: I ain't sayin' it's right. But you're sayin' a foot massage don't mean nothing, and I'm saying it does. Now look, I've given a million ladies a million foot massages, and they all meant something. We act like they don't, but they do, and that's what's so fucking cool about them. There's a sensuous thing going on where you don't talk about it, but you know it, she knows it, fucking Marsellus knew it, and Antoine should have fucking better known better. I mean, that's his fucking wife, man, he can't be expected to have a sense of humor about that shit. You know what I'm saying?
Jules: That's an interesting point.

Yolanda, I thought you said you were gonna be cool. Now when you yell at me, it makes me nervous. And when I get nervous, I get scared. And when motherfuckers get scared, that's when motherfuckers accidentally get shot. But I don't want that. And you don't want that. And Ringo here definitely doesn't want that.

Well yeah. I was just sitting here, eating my muffin, drinking my coffee, when I had what alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity.

If my answers frighten you Vincent, then you should cease asking scary questions.

What happened here today was a miracle and I want you to fucking acknowledge it!

I wouldn't go so far as to call the brother fat. He's got a weight problem. What's the nigga gonna do? He's Samoan.

Vincent: Want some bacon?
Jules: No man, I don’t eat pork.
Vincent: Are you Jewish?
Jules: Nah, 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 gooood. Pork chops taste gooood.
Jules: Hey, sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I'd never know ‘cause I wouldn't eat the filthy motherfucker. Pigs sleep and root in shit. That's a filthy animal. I ain't eatin' nothin' that ain't got sense enough to disregard its own feces.
Vincent: How 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. 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: Well we'd have to be talkin' about one charmin' motherfuckin' pig. I mean he'd have to be ten times more charmin' than that Arnold on Green Acres, you know what I'm sayin'?
Vincent: [laughing] That's good.

Jules: Oh, man. I will never forgive your ass for this shit. This is some fucked-up repugnant shit.
Vincent: Jules, did you ever hear the philosophy that once a man admits that he is wrong, he is immediately forgiven for all wrong-doings? Have you ever heard that?
Jules: Get the fuck out my face with that shit. The motherfucker said that shit never had to pick up itty-bitty pieces of skull on account of your dumb ass.
Vincent: I've got a threshold Jules. I've got a threshold for the abuse that I will take. Now right now I'm a fuckin' race car, alright? And you got me in the red. And I'm just saying, I'm just saying that it's fuckin' dangerous to have a race car in the fuckin' red, that's all. I could blow.
Jules: Oh, oh, you ready to blow?
Vincent: Yeah, I'm ready to blow.
Jules: Well, I'm a mushroom cloud-layin' motherfucker, motherfucker. Every time my fingers touch brain, I'm "SUPERFLY TNT." I'm "THE GUNS OF THE NAVARONE." In fact, what the fuck am I doing in the back? You're the motherfucker should be on brain detail. We're fucking switching. I'm washing the windows and you're picking up this nigger's skull.

Vincent: A please would be nice.
The Wolf: Come again?
Vincent: I said a please would be nice.
The Wolf: Get it straight, Buster. I'm not here to say please. I'm here to tell you what to do. And if self-preservation is an instinct you possess, you better fuckin' do it and do it quick. I'm here to help. If my help's not appreciated, lots of luck, gentlemen.
Jules: No no Mr. Wolfe, it's not like that. Your help is definitely appreciated.
Vincent: Look Mr Wolfe, I respect you. I just don't like people barking orders at me, that's all.
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 two guys to act fast if you want to get out of this. So, pretty please, with sugar on top... clean the fuckin' car!

Jules: Fuck nigger, what the fuck did you just do to his towel, man?
Vincent: I was dryin' my hands.
Jules: You're supposed to wash them first!
Vincent: Well you watched me wash them!
Jules: I watched you get 'em wet!
Vincent: I was washing 'em...this shit's hard to get off. Maybe if I had Lava I could have done a better job.
Jules: I used the same fucking soap you did and when I finished the towel didn't look like no goddamn maxi-pad. What if Jimmie was to come in here and see his towel like this, Vincent! It's shit like this that's gonna bring this situation to a head, man!

Jules: Mmmm! Goddamn, Jimmie! This is some serious gourmet shit! Usually, me and Vince would be happy with some freeze-dried Taster's Choice, but he springs this serious GOURMET shit on us! What flavor is this?
Jimmie: Knock it off, Jules.
Jules: What?
Jimmie: I don't need you to tell me how fucking good my coffee is, okay? I'm the one who buys it. I know how good it is. When Bonnie goes shopping she buys SHIT. I buy the gourmet expensive stuff because when I drink it I want to taste it. But you know what's on my mind right now? It AIN'T the coffee in my kitchen, it's the dead nigger in my garage.
Jules: Oh, Jimmie, don't even worry about that...
Jimmie: No, let me ask you a question. When you came pulling in here, did you notice a sign out in front of my house that said Dead Nigger Storage?
Jules: Jimmie, you know I ain't seen no...
Jimmie: Did you notice a sign out in front of my house that said Dead Nigger Storage?
Jules: No, I didn't.
Jimmie: You know WHY you didn't see that sign?
Jules: Why?
Jimmie: 'Cause it ain't there, 'cause storing dead niggers ain't my fucking business, that's why!
Jules: But Jimmie, we ain't gonna store the motherfucker -
Jimmie: No no no no no, don't you fucking realize man that if Bonnie comes home, and finds a dead body in her house, I'm gonna get divorced? Alright? No marriage counseling no trial seperation, I'm going to get fucking divorced, ok? And I don't want to get fucking divorce. Now man, you know, fuck, I wanna help you but I don't want to lose my wife doing it, alright?.
Jules: Jimmie, Jimmie she ain't gonna leave you....
Jimmie: Don't fucking Jimmie me Jules, OK? Don't fucking Jimmie me! There's nothing that you're gonna say thats gonna make me forget that I love my wife is there?! Now look, you know, she comes home from work in about an hour and a half. Graveyard shift at the hospital. You gotta make some phones calls? You gotta call some people? Well then do it! And then get the fuck out of my house before she gets here!
Jules: Hey, that's Kool and the Gang. You know, we don't wanna fuck your shit up. All we wanna do is call my people and get em to bring us in that's all.
Jimmie: You don't wanna fuck my shit up? YOU'RE FUCKING MY SHIT UP RIGHT NOW! You're gonna fuck my shit up big time if Bonnie comes home. So just do me that favor, alright? The phone is in my bedroom I suggest you get going.

Vincent: You know what the funniest thing about Europe is?
Jules: What?
Vincent: It's the little differences. I mean they got the same shit over there that they got here, but it's just - it's just there it's a little different.
Jules: Examples?
Vincent: Alright, well you can walk into a movie theater in Amsterdam and buy a beer. And I don't mean just like in no paper cup, I'm talking about a glass of beer. And in Paris, you can buy a beer at McDonald's. And you know what they call a, uh, a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?
Jules: They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with Cheese?
Vincent: Nah, man, 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."[2]
Jules: "Royale with Cheese."
Vincent: Thats right.
Jules: What do they call a Big Mac?
Vincent: A Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call it "Le Big Mac."
Jules: "Le Big Mac." [laughs] What do they call a Whopper?
Vincent: I dunno, I didn't go into Burger King. But, you know what they put on french fries in Holland instead of ketchup?
Jules: What?
Vincent: Mayonnaise.
Jules: Yuck!
Vincent: I seen 'em do it, man, they fuckin' drown 'em in that shit.

Jules: So, tell me again about the hash bars?
Vincent: Okay, what you wanna know?
Jules: Hash is legal there right?
Vincent: Yeah, it's legal, but it ain't a hundred percent legal. I mean, you can't walk into a restaurant, roll a joint and start puffin' away. You're only supposed to smoke in your home or certain designated places.
Jules: And those are hash bars?
Vincent: 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 legal to carry it, but that doesn't really matter 'cause - get a load of this - if you get stopped by the cops in Amsterdam, it's illegal for them to search you. I mean, that's a right the cops in Amsterdam don't have.
Jules: [Laughing] I'm going, that's all there is too it, I'm fucking going
Vincent: Yeah baby, you'd dig it the most.

We gotta get this car off the road! You know, cops tend to notice shit like you're driving a car drenched in fuckin' blood.