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]

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.

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.

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.