Martin: I realize you must have gone through hell.

Justin Jones: Gone? Bitch, we're still here!

[last lines]

Martin: How do you feel?

Steven Beck: [punches her] Better. A lot better.

Sixpack: You know, I stood next to a guy who blew up his suit once. I'll tell you, that was not a pretty sight.

Jones: Leave DeJesus alone, man!

Sixpack: One tiny little hole in a fucking toe of his suit, man. No bigger than your dick. Yeah, the way the ocean came in, the pressure just crammed his whole body up into his helmet in a matter of seconds. We just buried his helmet. That would have been you, DeJesus.

DeJesus: Hey, I know about implosions.

Sixpack: Yeah, I bet you do. I bet you were imploding in your pants.

Elizabeth 'Willie' Williams: [Checking on Jones who's just made it to the surface] Jones?

Steven Beck: Jones?

Justin Jones: So where's the goddamn hurricane? Yeah I made it I'm fine I'm alright I'm alright.

Justin Jones: Beck... Save... Yourself.

Justin Jones: [as they wait to be rescued] It's cold out here.

Sixpack: [shaking a dead sea spider at Willie] Look at my foot! This bitch put a goddamn sea monster in my bunk!

Steven Beck: How do you know it was her?

Sixpack: It was her, goddammit! What, are you calling me a liar, Beck?

Steven Beck: That may be the size of it, bubba.

Steven Beck: [as he fights Leviathan] See you topside.

Elizabeth 'Willie' Williams: Get into your suit... Beck, get into your suit!

Justin Jones: [Beck jetisons them out of the complex] Beck, don't be a fool!

Jones: Talk about having a bad day.

Dr. Glen Thompson: It's growing. It's just had a meal.

Elizabeth 'Willie' Williams: It needs blood?

Dr. Glen Thompson: Apparently.

Jones: That's just great! You're telling me that we've got a goddamned Dracula in here with us?

Steven Beck: Of course. That's why the one on that ship was dead. It needed blood... fresh cells to resurrect itself and grow.

Elizabeth 'Willie' Williams: What "one on that ship"?

Jones: Will someone let the rank and file in on your little secret?

Dr. Glen Thompson: Whatever it is... it's apparently some kind of genetic aberration.

Jones: No shit!

G. P. Cobb: What are you saying, Doc?

Dr. Glen Thompson: It has all the characteristics of deep sea life. Scales, gills... regeneration. Even some kind of dormancy. But the fact that it remembered where that blood plasma was stored makes it appear to have some other kind of quality.

G. P. Cobb: Meaning what?

Steven Beck: It absorbs the intelligence of its victims.

Dr. Glen Thompson: Intelligence may not be the right word here.

Jones: To hell with semantics, Doc. Are you saying that thing out there is part DeJesus, part Bowman, part Sixpack?

Dr. Glen Thompson: I don't know. I'd just be guessing. But I do know this... the Russians deliberately sank that ship to protect themselves. Maybe to protect us all.

Steven Beck: And Sixpack, if you call me Becky one more time I'm going to pop your tops, all six of them.

Jones: This whole thing is unnecessary, Doc. The only skin problem I can see is white people. How come you are wearing those gloves? It ain't bend-over time, is it?

Martin: Generic alteration?

Dr. Glen Thompson: Genetic.

Martin: Whatever.

Jones: And another thing. I am getting tired of hearing about your goddamn skiing. You don't know shit about skiing. They don't ski in Spanish Harlem.

Sixpack: Oh, mama! What a pair.

Bridget Bowman: What'd you say?

Sixpack: I said, "What a pair." Our shack boss and his washed-up doctor buddy make quite a... What did you think I said?

Bridget Bowman: That you liked my boobs.

Sixpack: Ha.

Steven Beck: [about to throw a stick of Dynamite at the creature] Say 'Hi', motherfucker!