Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

I think you've got the makings of being a really good cop, Jason. And you know why? Because deep down you're a decent man. I know you don't think I think that, but I do, dipshit. I do think you're too angry, though. And I know it's all since your dad died and you had to go look after your mom and all. But as long as you hold on to so much hate, then I don't think you're ever gonna become... what I know you wanna become. A detective. Because you know what you need to become a detective? And I know you're gonna wince when I say this... But what you need to become a detective... is love. Fuck 'em. Because through love comes calm, and through calm comes thought. And you need thought to detect stuff sometimes, Jason. It's kinda all you need. You don't even need a gun. And you definitely don't need hate. Hate never solved nothing. But calm did. And thought did. Try it. Try it just for a change. No one will think you're gay. And if they do, arrest them for homophobia. Won't they be surprised?

— Is mommy drunk, daddy?
— No, no, she's just got a little migraine. A little Chardonnay migraine.

Angela Hayes: — Why are you never on my side, Robbie?
Robbie Hayes: — I'm always on your side when you're not being a cunt!
chorus: — Hey!
Mildred Hayes: — There will be no more "cunts" in this house. You got that, mister?
Robbie Hayes: — What, are you moving out?

— Hey, Dixon?
— Yeah?
— I need to tell you something. It was me that burned down the police station. Why, who the hell else would it have been?

Mildred Hayes: — Hey, fuckhead!
Jason Dixon: — What?
Cedric Connolly: — Don't say, "What," Dixon, when she comes in calling you a fuckhead!

Kiss the girls for me, and know that I've always loved you, and maybe I'll see you again if there's another place. And if there ain't, well, it's been heaven knowing you.

— I'm sorry I got your hopes up.
— Well, that's all right. That's all right. At least I had a day of hoping, and that's more than I've had for a while.

— What happened to your hand, Officer Dixon?
— Oh, I just kinda... banged it up a little bit while I was throwing some guy out a fucking window. You know, the usual.
— Oh, yeah? They never taught me that one at the academy.
— Which fucking academy you go to?
— How are things coming along on that Angela Hayes case?
— How's things coming along on the mind-your-own-fucking-business case?
— How are things coming along on the hand me your gun and your badge?
— What? Huh?
— Hand me your gun and your badge.

— Well, you want me to go down and talk to 'em?
— No, I don't want you to go down and talk to 'em. Somebody sending their goddamn mother down to talk to the goddamn police? To say what?

— Dixon?
— Yup?
— Are you sure about this?
— About killing this guy? Not really. You?
— Not really. I guess we can decide along the way.

I guess you can't be too picky about who your friends are these days, huh?

Firstly, I wanted to apologize for dying without catching your daughter's killer. It's a source of great pain to me, and it would break my heart to think you thought I didn't care, 'cause I did care. There are just some cases... where you never catch a break... then five years down the line some guy hears some other guy bragging about it in a bar room or a jail cell and the whole thing is wrapped up through sheer stupidity. I hope that might be true for Angela.

— How much these billboards cost?
— About the same as a tractor-trailer.