John Baggs Jr.: Would you call yourself a "Champagne cocktail-sippin', cock-teasin', downtown barroom whore"?

Maggie Paul: [bursting into tears] Second generation!

Doug: You are so dumb you make me sick, whitey.

John Baggs Jr.: [fondly] Well I'm getting kinda fond of you too, spook.

Lynn Forshay: Let me give you one piece of advice, one old salt to another... Ah, to hell with advice.

Maggie Paul: Why is it everybody else gets chicken and I always get the feathers?

John Baggs Jr.: We love each other.

Maggie Paul: Love is shit with sugar on it.

[as they are walking outside late at night, John places his arm around Maggie]

Maggie Paul: I ain't cold.

John Baggs Jr.: I hope not.

Maggie Paul: [to John] You got a terrific knack for being nice and a prick all at the same time.

Doug: [about the baby] It's a honky, ain't it?

John Baggs Jr.: Yeah, I'm afraid he is.

Doug: Shit, I guess it ain't his fault.

John Baggs Jr.: You ever been in love, Forshay?

Lynn Forshay: I'll tell you Baggs, I don't believe I have. That's because I happen to be one of those incurable romantics. Every time I meet a girl, I expect to hear a clap of thunder. I never heard the thunder, but occasionally I do get the clap.