Floyd: You gotta go, both of you. My girlfriend, she'd kill me if she knew I had guests.
Trevor: Not much of a girlfriend if she don't like your family. Now would you get me a fucking drink? I'm not gonna ask you again!

Dr. Isiah Friedlander: Your son, James. He's a good kid?
Michael De Santa: He's a good kid? A good kid? Why? Does he help the fucking poor? No. He sits on his ass all day, smoking dope and jerking off while he plays that fucking game. If that's our standard for goodness... then no wonder this country's screwed.

That girl is beat up from the feet up.

What a shit show. I'll tell you what, you could take this desert, and stick it. My life may be a world of pain, but from here on out it's gonna be cool, comfortable, air-conditioned pain.

So Michael, this is where dead men come back to life. It's been nearly ten years. But you'll keep for another day or so huh, old friend? You motherfucking fuck! I grieved for you! You weren't even fucking dead. You were my best friend. Well guess who's coming to shit on your doorstep, you fuck!