Jules Winnfield

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 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.

If you find my answers frightening, Vincent, you should cease askin' scary questions.

— I'm talkin'. Now let me ask you a question, Jules. When you drove in here, did you notice a sign out front that said, "Dead nigger storage"?
— Naw man, I didn't.
— You know why you didn't see that sign?
— Why?
— 'Cause storin' dead niggers ain't my fuckin' business!

— Look, I'm sorry, uh, I didn't get your name. I got yours. Vincent. Right? But I never got yours.
— My name's Pitt, and your ass ain't talkin' your way outta this shit.

— Want some bacon?
— No, man, I don't eat pork.
— Are you Jewish?
— I ain't Jewish; I just don't dig on swine, that's all.
— Why not?
— Pigs are filthy animals. I don't eat filthy animals.
— Yeah, but bacon tastes good. Pork chops taste good.
— Sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I'd never know… 'cause I wouldn't eat the filthy motherfuckers. Pigs sleep and root in shit. That's a filthy animal. I ain't eatin' nothin' ain't got sense enough to disregard its own feces.

— And you know what they call a... a... a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?
— They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with cheese?
— No man, they got the metric system. They wouldn't know what the fuck a Quarter Pounder is.
— Then what do they call it?
— They call it a Royale with cheese.
— A Royale with cheese. What do they call a Big Mac?
— Well, a Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call it le Big-Mac.

— We should have shotguns for this kind of deal.
— How many up there?
— Three or four.
— That's countin' our guy?
— Not sure.
— So that means there could be up to five guys up there?
— It's possible.
— We should have fuckin' shotguns.

Hey, Vincent. See, that shit don't matter. You're judging this shit the wrong way. It could be God stopped the bullets, changed Coke to Pepsi, found my car keys. You don't judge shit like this based on merit. Now, whether or not what we experienced… was an according-to-Hoyle miracle is insignificant. But what is significant is, I felt the touch of God. God got involved.

— Well, you know the shows on TV?
— I don't watch TV.
— Yes, but you're aware that there's an invention called television, and on that invention they show shows?

— Does he look… Like a bitch?
— No!
— Then why you tryin' to fuck him like a bitch?
— I didn't.
— Yes, you did. Yes, you did, Brett!
— You tried to fuck him.
— No, no.
— But Marsellus Wallace don't like to be fucked by anybody except Mrs. Wallace.

"What" ain't no country I know! Do they speak English in "What?".

Well, if you like hamburgers give 'em a try sometime. Me, I can't usually eat 'em 'cause my girlfriend's a vegetarian. Which more or less makes me a vegetarian, but I sure love the taste of a good burger.