Tommy (still at the bar, some girl is hitting on him): Sweetheart, believe me, this is way, way, more bad boy than you'll ever be able to handle. So, do yourself a favor... go blow a drummer.
Tommy (showing his scars to people at a bar, proving his FDNY, he's also drinking very expensive whiskey which he can't pay for): See, that? See, that, huh? I got that 12 stories up in a raging inferno up in Harlem. In an apartment, lookin' around I lost my halgen, couldn't find it. But I did find someone's grandmother. I had to hand her out in a bucket to save her, had to punch my way through a window. She died about an hour later. See that one? Take a look at that one. That was a drunken asshole up in the Bronx he fell asleep smoking in bed, well, he started the fire. He was trying to crawl out, I brought him down, I was trading my mask off with him coming down the stairs, the stairs give way and I fall through a half of story on to these metal spikes. He lived, but four kids and their mom died. I knew, 60 guys, who died on 9-11. And you know what the funny part is? I betcha 'ya, all the people in this bar, you could name five finalist from American Idol but they can't name one, one name of the 343 men who gave their lives from the FDNY on 9-11, huh. Anybody got a name? One name, huh? Anybody got a name of a dead fireman, huh? No, nobody, didn't think so. I don't have any money because my wallet and my badge were inside my new truck which got stolen this morning. My wife's pregnant, she's gonna have a baby. But we don't know who's it is because she's having sex with me and my brother. My uncle's in the joint because last year he shot my---this drunk driver that killed my only son and I just saw my son on a crosstown bus right in front of this place like three minutes ago. (Bartender gives Tommy the whole bottle of the expensive Irish whiskey)
Bartender: For a glass that's gonna cost you about a ceno, you're certainly drinkin' it pretty fast there, pal.
Tommy: Well, you would to if you only had about two dollars and seventy-five cents if your pocket.
Janet: Why didn't you listen to me?
Janet: Six years ago when I asked you to spend more time with the kids, to spend more time at home, to spend more time with me. All you had to do was to listen to me! All that was required was that you hear the words!
Tommy: I heard the words, okay. I quit drinking, I quit my third job, I was home every Saturday.
Janet: No, you were always playing softball every Saturday during the summer. All winter you played hockey, all spring, all fall, and the only reason that you quit drinking was because Lou said to you that the chief said something to him---
Tommy: That wasn't the only reason.
Janet: --- not because of me! Not because of the kids! Goddamnit, Tommy! (she grabs his coat and shakes him and starts hitting him) All you had to do was listen!
Tommy (pinning her against the wall): Goddamnit, stop! (talking through gritted teeth) Are you gonna tell me that simply because I didn't listen well enough that you have ruined my life so far beyond what I could ever imagine. And that's why, because I didn't listen hard enough, and that's why, you're sucking my brother's cock? (she grabs his balls hard, and Tommy is still pinning her to the wall)
Janet: Goddamnit, Tommy, he was there when I needed someone I was scared shitless -- I just buried my only son. (Janet grabs him harder)
Tommy: So did I.
Janet: And what did you need, Tommy? (Janet grabs him harder)
Tommy: Ah, Goddamnit! What did I need--
Janet: You know, I needed you! The old you. I needed someone to hold me in my bed at night when I cried. I needed someone to help me after I was done helping the girls wipe away their tears. But, the old you? He was gone. He's buried, with all of your lost brothers and you know what? You can tell all of your lost brothers to go to hell because we're here, and they're not.
Tommy: So, what're you? You a Muslim?
Taxi Driver: Yeah.
Tommy: So what, you believe that you die and you go to heaven and you get what? Seventy...seven virgins?
Taxi Driver: Seventy-two.
Tommy: Seventy-two, right. I mean...what's the point of that? If you think about it...I mean, virgins? When you go to heaven, I mean wouldn't you rather have whores?
Taxi Driver: You think that there are whores in heaven? There are no whores in heaven.
Tommy: I mean, I would prefer that if I went to heaven I would get seventy-seven---
Taxi Driver: Seventy-two.
Tommy: Okay. Seventy-two...whores. Chicks that know something, chicks that know how to blow 'ya---chicks that know tricks.
Taxi Driver: Lemme ask you somethin'--
Tommy: What? What?
Taxi Driver: What are you...religion wise.
Tommy: I'm nothing. I'm a lapsed Catholic.
Taxi Driver: Well, my friend, you're going to heaven, okay?
Tommy: I'd rather go to hell with seventy-seven---
Taxi Driver: Seventy-two. Seventy-two!
Tommy: Okay, two-thousand whores! (Taxi Driver keeps trying to talk) Three thousand whores and Babe Ruth and John Lennon and Elvis Presley, take me to hell. Jesus.
Franco: Hey, Chief, you wouldn't have any problem with me bringin' a retard into work, would 'ya?
Chief: I got two here as it is, I can't see how another one would hurt.
(After someone stole Tommy's new Cadillac)
Lou: Well, it looks nice from the back.
Sean (about Franco's girlfriend's brother): He's retarded?
Lou: Like Rainman retarded or you know, Paris Hilton retarded?
Franco: Well, he can function, like Paris, he can go to the bathroom on his own which I assume Paris can do. He's pretty good with numbers, I'm not sayin that the guy can count toothpicks off of the floor or anything and you know, he eats things.
Lou: Hey, hey now there's nothing retarded about that.
Franco: No, I'm not talkin' bout food things, Lou. I'm talking about actual things shit that's layin' around the room. Checkers, paper clips, erasers, pen caps, the guys small intestine must have a silver lining.
Lou: Well, you know how they talk about retards having like what's it called retard strength?
Sean: What're you lookin' at me for?
Lou: Well, maybe that's what Richard the retard has except all of his power is concentrated in his digestive track.
Franco: The thing is that I really wanna make a good impression with Nat, so I figured I take the guy to a ballgame.
Sean: Yeah, hey that's a good idea. A nice chance to bond.
Lou: Yeah, that should work out real nice, you know, assuming he doesn't eat the tickets before you get to the gate.