Hey, hermano. Your new life... it starts now.

V: Bug, ya could at least try to be... nice.
T-Bug: You want nice, supportive? Call a damn helpline.

Would you rather live in peace as Mr. Nobody, die ripe, old and smellin' slightly of urine? Or go down for all times in a glaze of glory, smellin' near like posies, 'thout seein' your thirtieth?

Well, that way you'd kill two souls. Is that what you want?

He burned down half the city just to prove he was right and burned the other half just for fun.

Swap meat for chrome, live a BD fantasy, whatever, but at the end of it all, it's the code you live by that defines who you are.

The city of dreams. I'd gladly kick the balls off the idiot who thought that one up.

Be alone with my thoughts? Near on unachievable these days.

Give yourself time. Ideas'll come. Life'll shake you, roll you, maybe embrace you. The music'll find you.

Once upon a time, people were talking to graves and nobody batted an eyelid, right?

V, V, V... If you don't have a titanium skull lining, you are gonna have memory problems in no time.

Oo, I love this town! Love it like you might love a mother who popped you out on the steps of an orphanage and now stops you to ask if you got a smoke for her!

Assisting a human to the best of my abilities only affords a 25 percent survival rate. That means there's a 75 percent chance that despite my efforts, the human I'm assisting will die from something beyond my control. Therefore it's better to hasten the human's death and put them out of their likely chance of misery than to deplete my limited time.

The Mechanist instructed me to seek out and help the people of the Commonwealth. By my calculations, the easiest way to help a human is simply to destroy it. There's no point in prolonging a laughably fragile life.

I've been to hell and back, and back to hell…and back.

Ah shit, here we go again.

I'll have two number 9s, a number 9 large, a number 6 with extra dip, a number 7, two number 45s, one with cheese, and a large soda.

I'm a well-dressed maniac!

Woozie: One's a fake.
CJ: That's amazing. You didn't even touch them.
Woozie: No. I just took a guess. Why else would he come in with two chips and sound so worried?

Does a polar bear shit in the woods?

CJ: You do know that I'm black, right? And not Chinese?
Woozie: I'm blind, Carl... not stupid.

Eddie's got two tickets to paradise, and I do too... In my pants.

CJ: Does the Pope shit in the woods?
Cesar: Why you always saying that? I already told you. Where the holiness does his business, is his business.

Grove Street. Home. At least it used to be until I fucked everything up.

Carl Johnson: Oh shit! Where you get this?
Cesar: Same place I got my pants, homes. This is America, man!