John Smith: [while driving, pursued by hit men in three black BMW'S] I never told you, but I was married once before.
Jane Smith: [slams on the brakes]
John Smith: What's wrong with you?
Jane Smith: [slapping John's arms and legs] You're what's wrong with me John.
John Smith: It was just a drunken Vegas thing.
Jane Smith: Oh, that's better. That's *much* better.
Jane Smith: What's her name and social security number?
John Smith: No, you're not gonna kill her.
John Smith: [after he throws a butcher's knife at her and misses] Your aim's as bad as your cooking sweetheart... and that's saying something!
Jane Smith: [over her speakerphone, trying to beat John home] Happy endings are just stories that haven't finished yet.
Jane Smith: [after shooting three shots through a wall at John] Still alive, baby?
John Smith: I can't believe I brought my real parents to our wedding.
John Smith: We have an unusual problem here, Jane. You obviously want me dead, and I'm less and less concerned for your well-being.
John Smith: [after Jane accidentally throws a knife that punctures his leg] We'll talk about this later.
John Smith: [just before running over an assassin with the minivan] These fuckers get younger every year.
John Smith: [over the Bluetooth headset phone, trying to beat Jane home] I guess that's what happens in the end, you start thinking about the beginning.
John Smith: [after having accidentally shot at his wife, Mr. Smith is on the roof of her car while she's trying to throw him off] Come on, let's talk about this! You don't want to go to bed angry!
John Smith: [to Benjamin Danz] Option A: You talk, we listen, no pain. Option B: You don't talk, I remove your thumbs with my pliers, it will hurt. Option C: I like to vary the details a bit but the punchline is... you die.
John Smith: [while dancing, after Jane asked what had happened to their marriage] I have a theory, newly developed.
Jane Smith: I'm breathless to hear it.
John Smith: I think you killed us.
Jane Smith: Provocative.
John Smith: Why do you care? I was just a cover
Jane Smith: Who says you were just a cover?
John Smith: [pauses] Wasn't I?
John Smith: [to Jane, while pursued by hit men in three black BMW'S] It's called evasive driving, sweetheart!
John Smith: [they stop dancing, after his wife checks his crotch for a weapon] That's all John, sweetheart.
John Smith: [after firing a rocket launcher, holding it and looking at it closely] We should so not be allowed to buy these.
John Smith: [hitman from the BMW opens the van's left door. John opens the other van door and yanks the hitman through] These doors are handy.
Marriage Counselor: [during a marriage counseling session] On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the happiness of your marriage?
Jane Smith: 8
John Smith: Wait Could you clarify? Is 10 the highest? 10 being perfectly happy and 1 being totally miserable or...
Marriage Counselor: Just respond instinctively.
John Smith: Ok. Ready?
Jane Smith: [during a marriage counseling session with John present] We re-did the house.
John Smith: [over the Bluetooth headset phone] The first time we met, what was your first thought?
Jane Smith: [over her speakerphone, trying to beat John home] You tell me.
John Smith: I thought... I thought you looked like Christmas morning, I don't know how else to say it.
Jane Smith: [over her speakerphone, trying to beat John home] And why are you telling me this now?
John Smith: I guess in the end you start thinking about the beginning... so there it is, I thought you should know.
Eddie: [awoken by a message with a job offer of $400,000] Tempting but I don't get out of bed for less than half a million dollars.
Girls walking by House: What's going on, Mrs. Smith?
Jane Smith: Garden party, girls.
John Smith: [after Jane told him she never cooked a day in her life] Web of lies!
Jane Smith: I told you to wait for my signal, you didn't wait for my signal.
John Smith: Well, I improvised.
Jane Smith: You deviated from the plan.
John Smith: The plan was flawed.
Jane Smith: The plan was not flawed.
John Smith: Anal.
Jane Smith: *Organized.*
John Smith: Jane, 90% of this job is instinct.
Jane Smith: Well, your instinct set off *every* alarm in the building!
John Smith: My instinct got the job done. It may not have been the Jane show...
Jane Smith: No, it was the John show: it was half-assed. Like Christmas, like our anniversary, like the time you forgot to bring my mother's birthday present.
John Smith: Your *fake* mother's birthday present.
Jane Smith: The point is, you are *always* the first to break team.
John Smith: You don't want a team, you want a servant for hire.
Jane Smith: I want someone I can count on.
John Smith: [sigh] Jane, there's no *air* around you anymore.
Jane Smith: [irritated] Oh. OK, what is that supposed to mean?
John Smith: That means there's no room for mistakes, no mistakes whatsoever. No spontaneity. Who can answer to that?
Jane Smith: Well, you don't have to. Because this isn't even a real marriage.
Benjamin: [locked up in the back of the van, in a bewildered voice] *Who are you people?*
Jane Smith: [yelling] Shut up!
John Smith: [comparing injuries with Jane] I'm slightly colorblind. Retinal scarring.
John Smith: Sweet Jesus! Mother of God!
John Smith: [to Jane while hotwiring a neighbor's minivan] He's had my barbecue set for months.
John Smith: We're going to have to re-do every conversation we've ever had.
[on living with his mother]
Eddie: She cooks and cleans. And *I'm* the dummy?
John Smith: [searching for Jane, holding a pistol] Sweetheart...!
John Smith: I realise you witnessed the Mrs. and I working through a few domestic issues. That's regrettable but don't take that to be a sign of weakness, that would be a mistake on your part.
[Jane is drumming her fingers impatiently]
John Smith: Honey!
Jane Smith: Wrap it up.
John Smith: Maybe it's not such a good idea to undermine me in front of the hostage - sends a mixed message.
Jane Smith: Sorry.
John Smith: Girls. Where was I?
Benjamin: Mistake on your part.
John Smith: Shut up.
Jasmine: Jane, it's your husband!
John Smith: Does that include weekends?
[when asked how many times they have sex]
Jane Smith: [comparing injuries with John, lying down on the hallway of their home] I can't feel anything in these three fingers.
Eddie: [at the diner] Well this shouldn't be that difficult, I mean how many chicks are hitters out there? Ya know what I mean?
Breakfast Diner Waitress: You guys want any dessert?
Eddie: What do ya have honey?
Breakfast Diner Waitress: Ice cream...
Eddie: Ice cream? That sounds delicious, what flavors d'ya have?
Breakfast Diner Waitress: Chocolate and Vanilla...
Eddie: I don't like either of those, separately, but maybe mixed together, that could be... a nice lil dish, you know what I mean? And not just a little pink spoon, a like the whole sundae...
[winks to the waitress]
Breakfast Diner Waitress: Could be arranged...
Eddie: Could be arranged, d'ya hear that? Like to have her kick my ass... d'ya know what I mean?
Benjamin: [in a van surrounded by body guards driving in the middle of the desert] Oh, look. More desert.
Eddie: [in Eddie's kitchen] This broad is not your wife, she's the enemy.
John Smith: She tried to kill me.
Eddie: They all try to kill you. Slowly, painfully, cripplingly, and then wham. They hurt you. How you going to handle it?
John Smith: [holding an assault rifle, walking past the door] I'm going to borrow this.
Eddie: I like where your head's at, man.
Eddie: I live with my mom because I choose to. She's the only woman I've ever trusted.
Jane Smith: [before she breaks Marco Racin's neck] Have you been selling big guns to bad people?
Jane Smith: [toasting with John in Columbia] To dodging bullets.
Jane Smith: I was never in the peace corps.
John Smith: [while carrying a rocket launcher] Let's see if we can't get a tune out of this trombone.
Jane Smith: [hiding with John in a display shed in a Cost Mart store] There's nowhere I'd rather be than here with you.
John Smith: [comparing injuries with Jane, leaning on the wall next to Jane] Three ribs. Broken eye socket. Perforated eardrum.
Mickey - Dive Bar Patron #1: Oh, he's pulled something!
John Smith: Oh, you're in trouble now!
Martin Coleman: Shame about the red oak.