I am Andrew Ryan, and I'm here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? 'No!' says the man in Washington, 'It belongs to the poor.' 'No!' says the man in the Vatican, 'It belongs to God.' 'No!' says the man in Moscow, 'It belongs to everyone.' I rejected those answers; instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose... Rapture, a city where the artist would not fear the censor, where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality, where the great would not be constrained by the small! And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well.

Sofia Sartor: You mentioned a creed before. What is it?
Ezio Auditore: Nothing is true, everything is permitted.
Sofia Sartor: That is rather cynical.
Ezio Auditore: It would be if it were doctrine. But it is merely an observation on the nature of reality. To say that nothing is true is to realize that the foundations of society are fragile and that we must be the shepherds of our own civilization. To say that everything is permitted is to understand that we are the architects of our actions and that we must live with our consequences, whether glorious or tragic.

I have seen worlds bathed in the Makers' flames. Their denizens fading without so much as a whimper. Entire planetary systems born and raised in the time that it takes your mortal hearts to beat once. Yet all throughout, my own heart, devoid of emotion... of empathy. I... have... felt... nothing! A million, million lives wasted. Had they all held within them your tenacity? Had they all loved life as you do?

You are not prepared!

I am the Swarm. Armies will be shattered. Worlds will burn. Now at last, on this world, vengeance shall be mine. For I am the Queen of Blades.

What is better -- to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?

We're made up of thousands of parts with thousands of functions all working in tandem to keep us alive. Yet if only one part of our imperfect machine fails, life fails. It makes one realize how fragile... how flawed we are...

Tell my wife, I had another wife.

Amanda De Santa: Get a center, Michael. You have no center.
Michael: How about you suck my cock?

I am diversification personified... or personification diversified.

Michael: Alright... the fuck is this bullshit? We handled your little immigration problem or whatever the fuck it was. We're straight.
Steve Haines: Oh absolutely... yeah, yeah. You killed people, you tortured people, committed a litany of other crimes... Oh we're so straight you and me, we're arrows.

Franklin: We're finna risk our lives to rob some motherfucking government killers again?
Michael: Yup.

They damaged my stuff. They smash up my home. Damage my soul. Look at this... This, this, this, this statue here of Impotent Rage. This fucking meant more to me than Johnny K meant to anyone! And they smashed it! Those pathetic, midlife crisis, hog-riding, shaven-headed, fruity leather-chap-wearing fucking assholes!

Michael: It's a foolish man who builds his house in sand, baby.
Franklin: I don't think my boy Matthew was thinking trucks when he wrote that shit.

Lamar: The fucker got fucked. He fucked the fucker himself.
Trevor: Shut up.

Trevor: You know, Franklin, if there's one thing that you're gonna learn from being around us...
Michael: Plead fuckin' insanity. Then they can't fry ya.

We shootin' shit up? Sprayin' some motherfuckers? I can drive-by with the best of'em.

Steve Haines: The problem with this job is I only get to know the criminals who are dumb enough to get themselves caught.
Michael: Only I didn't get myself caught. Remember? I turned myself in.
Steve Haines: That makes you doubly dumb.

Michael: It feels like I'm giving a colonoscopy to the Statue of Happiness.
Steve Haines: Nice change from being up Trevor Phillips' ass all day.

Fucking shit, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt! Who the fuck are you speaking to? Who? Who? I'm talking to you huh? You fuck! Next time don't get in my fucking face! I just saw a fucking ghost and I gotta hear your crap? Get up! Get up! Fuck you then.

Trevor: I asked for a fair day's pay for a fair day's work. Well, he kinda got a little angry. So, I admit, I kinda got a little angry too.
Michael: Did you kill him?
Trevor: What kinda fucking animal do you take me for? No, I didn't kill him!

Michael sighs with relief

Trevor: But I did kidnap his wife.

You're back, man. WE are back. All we gotta do is bust out Brad and then we're golden, man! Franklin, he makes us multicultural. Lester makes it cyber. We're like modern America. We just get ourselves a gay friend, and BAM!

We are about to put the Darwinism back in Social Darwinism, and brother, it's gonna be fun.

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!

Floyd: Wade, I heard you was off smoking meth somewhere.
Trevor: No, not somewhere, here. He's gonna smoke meth here. Get me a fucking lighter.
Floyd: You can't smoke here.
Trevor: Okay.