Constantine

— You're the one soul he'd come up here himself to collect.
— So I've heard.

— If you get back, see me about membership. Maybe.
— Okay. I will.

— Half-breeds are most vulnerable when their outer skin is breached by holy water. Certain objects, most notably either of the two crosses of Isteria, have been used by even the unordained to bless commonly occurring waters, even rain. Maybe if... There's no use sitting on the bench if you're not ready to play, right? You wouldn't have one of those enchanted crosses here in a cabinet, maybe we could take with us? Look, John, no offense, I just don't think that it's a great idea, you know... you going on a solo mission to save the world. That's my vote. I don't know what pops thinks, but that's...
— Take him, John. Kill him after.

— So do I have to take the rest of my clothes off, or can I leave them on? John?
— I'm thinking.
— John?
— On is fine.

— Cats are good. Half in, half out anyway.
— If this is some kind of spell or something... don't you need candles and a pentagram for it to work?
— Why, do you have any?
— This is crazy.
— Yes.

You're handed this precious gift, right? Each one of you granted redemption from the Creator. Murderers, rapists and molesters, all of you, you just have to repent and God takes you into his bosom. In all the worlds in all the universe, no other creature can make such a boast, save man. It's not fair.

— I never asked to see. I was born with this curse.
— A gift, John. One that you've squandered on selfish endeavors.
— I'm pulling demons out of little girls. Who's that for?
— Everything you've ever done, you've only ever done for yourself. To earn your way back into his good graces.
— Impossible rules, endless regulations... who goes up, who goes down and why. You don't even understand us. You're the one who should go to hell, half-breed.

— Forgot how big it was.
— Two hundred souls passed through this wood and steel at Sing Sing.
— Yeah.

For your boss!

— All right, question. How much longer do I have to be your slave, John?
— You're not my slave, Chas. You're my very appreciated apprentice. Like Tonto or Robin. Or that skinny fellow with the fat friend...
— Right. So then why don't I apprentice something besides driving, then, John? John! John! I love our little talks, John!

You can get in. If you can get in.

When we were girls... we would leave each other messages. In light. In breath. On the windows.

— What were those things?
— Demons.
— Scavengers of the damned...
— No, no. It's impossible!
— And I don't think they were after me...

Yeah, what kind of mental patient kills herself? That's just crazy.