Vincent: Max, six billion people on the planet, you're getting bent out of shape cause of one fat guy.
Max: Well, who was he?
Vincent: What do you care? Have you ever heard of Rwanda?
Max: Yes, I know Rwanda.
Vincent: Well, tens of thousands killed before sundown. Nobody's killed people that fast since Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Did you bat an eye, Max?
Vincent: Did you join Amnesty International, Oxfam, Save the Whales, Greenpeace, or something? No. I off one fat Angelino and you throw a hissy fit.
Max: Man, I don't know any Rwandans.
Vincent: You don't know the guy in the trunk, either.
Vincent: Look in the mirror. Paper towels, clean cab. Limo company some day. How much you got saved?
Max: That ain't any of your business.
Vincent: Someday? Someday my dream will come? One night you will wake up and discover it never happened. It's all turned around on you. It never will. Suddenly you are old. Didn't happen, and it never will, because you were never going to do it anyway. You'll push it into memory and then zone out in your barco lounger, being hypnotized by daytime TV for the rest of your life. Don't you talk to me about murder. All it ever took was a down payment on a Lincoln town car. That girl,you can't even call that girl. What the fuck are you still doing driving a cab?
Vincent: Get with it. Millions of galaxies of hundreds of millions of stars, in a speck on one in a blink. That's us, lost in space. The cop, you, me... Who notices?
Vincent: Guy gets on the subway and dies. Think anybody'll notice?
Vincent: Take comfort in knowing you never had a choice.
Vincent: Okay, look, here's the deal. Man, you were gonna drive me around tonight, never be the wiser, but El Gordo got in front of a window, did his high dive, we're into Plan B. Still breathing? Now we gotta make the best of it, improvise, adapt to the environment, Darwin, shit happens, I Ching, whatever man, we gotta roll with it.
Max: I Ching? What are you talking about, man? You threw a man out of a window.
Vincent: I didn't throw him. He *fell*
Max: Well what did he do to you?
Max: What did he do to *you*?
Vincent: Nothing. I only met him tonight.
Max: You just met him once and you killed him like that?
Vincent: What? I should only kill people after I get to know them?
Vincent: They project onto you their flaws, what they don't like about themselves. I had a father like that.
Max: Mothers are worse.
Vincent: Wouldn't know. My mother died before I remember her.
Max: What about your father?
Vincent: Hated everything I did. Got drunk, beat me up. In and out of foster homes, that kinda thing.
Max: And then?
Vincent: I killed him. I was twelve.
[pauses, then laughs]
Vincent: I'm kidding. He died of liver disease.
Max: Well, I'm sorry.
Vincent: No, you're not.
Vincent: There's no good reason, there's no bad reason to live or to die.
Max: Then what are you?
Vincent: I'm indifferent.
[after Vincent and Max load a corpse into the cab's trunk]
Vincent: Lets go.
Max: Hey, why don't you just take the cab?
Vincent: Take the cab?
Max: Yeah, you take it. I'll - I'll chill. I'll - I'll just chill. They don't even know who's driving these things half the time anyway. They never check or anything. Okay... so... just - just take it. You, me...
Vincent: You promise not to tell anybody right?
Max: Yeah... yeah... yeah... promise.
Vincent: Get in the fucking car.
Max: He, he, he fell on the cab. He fell, he fell from up there on the motherfucking cab. Shit. I think he's dead.
Vincent: Good guess.
Max: You killed him?
Vincent: No, I shot him. Bullets and the fall killed him.
Max: First time in L.A.?
Vincent: No. Tell you the truth, whenever I'm here I can't wait to leave. It's too sprawled out, disconnected. You know? That's me. You like it?
Max: It's my home.
Vincent: 17 million people. This is got to be the fifth biggest economy in the world and nobody knows each other. I read about this guy who gets on the MTA here, dies.
Vincent: Six hours he's riding the subway before anybody notices his corpse doing laps around L.A., people on and off sitting next to him. Nobody notices.
Fanning: [cops are in alley outside Ramon's apartment] Ramon went through that window... splat. Glass here, then tires rolled over it.
Richard Weidner: Maybe he jumped.
Fanning: Sure... he's depressed so he jumps four stories out of a window onto his head. "Wow, that feels better." Picks himself up. "Now I think I'll go on with the rest of my day."
[after Max crashes the cab]
Vincent: Well, that was brilliant...
Vincent: Most people - same job, same gig, doing the same thing 10 years from now. Us, we don't know what we are doing 10 minutes from now.
Max: You're full of shit.
Vincent: I'm full of shit? You're a monument of it. You even bullshitted yourself, all I am is taking out the garbage, killing bad people.
Max: Yeah, well that's what you said.
Vincent: You believed me?
Max: Then what'd they do?
Vincent: How do I know, you know? They all got that 'witness for the prosecution' look to me. Probably some major federal indictment of somebody who majorly does not want to get indicted.
Vincent: [Visiting Ida] Flowers?
Max: It's the money. Won't mean a thing to her.
Vincent: [Staring him down] She carried you in her womb for nine months. If you can buy flowers, buy flowers.
Annie: Well, how many cabbies do you know get you into an argument to save you money?
Max: If there were two of us I'd have to kill the other one. I don't like competition.
Vincent: You're alive. I saved you. Do I get any thanks? No. All you can do is clam up. You wanna talk? Tell me to fuck off?
Max: Fuck off.
Daniel: Just when I thought you were a cool guy.
Vincent: I am a cool guy, with a job I contracted to do.
[warning Max when two policemen have them pulled over]
Vincent: If you open that trunk, they go inside.
[Max is on the radio dispatch with his boss, Lenny]
Max: Yeah, Lenny, what's up? It's me.
Lenny: Just got off the phone with the cops. Desk sergeant called to check if you brought the cab in?
Max: Yeah, so?
Lenny: So, aside from I hate talking to cops, they tell me you crashed the goddamn cab?
Max: No, no, I got crashed into. I didn't...
Lenny: Do I care what, where, why? You're paying.
[Vincent is trying to think of what Max should say next]
Vincent: [to Max] It was an accident. You're not liable.
Max: It was an accident. I'm not liable.
Lenny: Bullshit. I'm making you liable. It's coming out of your goddamn pocket.
Vincent: [to Max] You tell him to stick this cab up his fat ass.
Max: I can't do that, that's my boss.
Max: I need my job.
Vincent: No, you don't.
Felix: Do you believe in Santa Claus?
Felix: Nor do I. Nor do I, but my children do. They are still small. But do you know who they like even better than Santa Claus? His helper, Pedro el Negro. Black Peter. There's an old Mexican tale that tells of how Santa Claus got so very busy looking out for the good children that he had to hire some help to look out for the bad children. So he hired Pedro. And Santa Claus gave him a list with all the names of all the bad children. And Pedro would come every night to check them out. And the people, the little kids that were misbehaving, that were not saying their prayers, Pedro would leave a little toy donkey on their window. A little burro. And he would come back, and if the children were still misbehaving, Pedro would take them away, and nobody would ever see them again. Now, if I am being Santa Claus, and you are Pedro, how do you think jolly Santa Claus would feel if one day Pedro came into his office and said, 'I lost the list.' How fucking furious do you think he will get?
Max: I think... I think you should tell the guy standing behind me to put his gun away.
Max: I said, I think you should tell him to put the gun down before I rip it out of his hand and beat his bitch-ass to death with it.
Vincent: [after the nightclub shootout] Only thing that didn't show up is the Polish cavalry.
Max: Why didn't you just kill me and get another cab driver?
Vincent: Cause you're good. We're in this together. Fates intertwined. Cosmic Coincidence.
[preparing to impersonate Vincent and meet with his bosses]
Max: How long have you been doing this? In case anyone asks?
Vincent: Private sector? Six years.
Max: Uh... you get health benefits? Pension...?
Vincent: No, and no paid vacation. Quit stalling, and get in there.
Vincent: You attract attention, you're going to get people killed who didn't need to be.
Vincent: Someday my dream will come. One night you'll wake up and you'll discover it never happened. It's all turned around on you and it never will. Suddenly you are old, didn't happened and it never will, 'cause you were never going to do it anyway.
Traffic Cop #2: Hey, is this blood up here on your windshield?
Max: Yeah, uh, yeah. I hit a deer.
Traffic Cop #1: You hit a deer?
Max: Yeah, over on, uh, it was on Slauson.
Traffic Cop #1: A South Central deer?
Max: The fat man, the penthouse guy, the jazz man. That leaves two.
Felix: Can you finish?
Max: In six years, when have I not?
Annie: ...Go Ahead. Say it.
Max: Say what?
Annie: No, say it. You we're right, your way was faster.
Max: Ah, I got lucky with the lights.
[over the dispatch system]
Lenny: Still there? I'm talking to you. Max. Max!
Vincent: He's not paying you a damn thing.
Lenny: Who the hell is this?
Vincent: Albert Ricardo, Assistant U.S. Attorney, a passenger in this cab, and I'm reporting you to the D.M.V.
Lenny: Let's not, oh, let's not get excited.
Vincent: Not get excited? How am I supposed to not get excited? Listen, you try to extort a working man. You know goddamn well your collision policy and general liability umbrella will cover the damages. And what are you trying to pull, you sarcastic prick?
Lenny: Look, I was just trying to...
Vincent: Tell it to him.
Vincent: Tell him he's an asshole. Go ahead.
Max: [to Lenny] You're an asshole.
Vincent: Tell him he pulls this shit again, you're gonna stick this yellow cab up his fat ass.
Max: [to Lenny] And, and next time you pull any shit, I'm gonna... I'm gonna have to stick this yellow cab up... up your fat ass.
Max: [after seeing the guy fall on his cab's roof] My man, you all right?
Vincent: Limos, huh?
Max: Don't start.
Vincent: Hey, I'm not the one lying to my mother.
Max: She hears what she wants to hear. I don't disillusion her.
Vincent: Yeah, right. Maybe she hears what you tell her.
Max: Whatever I tell her is never good enough anyway. It's always been that way. So whats at El Rodeo?
Vincent: Just drive.
Vincent: They project onto you their flaws. What they don't like about themselves, their lives, whatever. They rank on you instead.
Max: How do you know?"
Daniel: I mean, everybody and their momma knew you don't just come up and talk to Miles Davis. I mean, he may have looked like he was chilling, but he was absorbed. This one hip couple, one of them tried to shake his hand one day. And the guy says, "Hi, my name is..." Miles said, "Get the fuck outta my face, you jive motherfucker, and take your silly bitch with you."
Vincent: Lady Macbeth. Leave the seats. The light's green. We're sitting here.
Max: [a car horn honks behind Max. The car whips around them to get through the intersection] Asshole!
Vincent: You no longer have the cleanest cab in La-La Land. You gotta live with that. Focus on the job. Drive.
Pedrosa: What's up? Why do you want to know about our case?
Fanning: Any unusual activity tonight?
Pedrosa: Like what?
Fanning: That relates to a series of murders in Wilshire Central or West Hollywood?
Pedrosa: All quiet on the western front. Various people are asleep. Various people are awake. They come and go in cars, pickups, taxis. Other than that, we watch the air move.
Vincent: [to Max when pulled over by police] Don't get me cornered. You don't have the trunk space.
Vincent: You got ten minutes. 10:01? I drive the cab to the hospital and execute your mother on my way out of town, and don't pretend indifference.
Max: I can't do this.
Max: I picked up a tail.
Max: I don't know. You tell me. But I know this, they were onto me. I tossed the workup lists to cover your hermes faconable ass.
Felix: Now you're here. Why?
Max: I lost my stuff. The list.
Felix: I want you to listen to me real well. Special groups put together the list of dedos.
Felix: Fingers, informants. Signal interceptions with voice-recognition software, surveillance. A very expensive counter-intelligence worked up that list. An important list, wouldn't you say? And you lost it?
Max: Yeah, I'm sorry. Sorry.
Felix: Sorry? 'Sorry' does not put Humpty Dumpty back together again.
Max: I brought you flowers.
Ida: What'm I do with flowers?
Max: Cheer up.
Ida: How? By worrying that you spend money on stuff that's just gon' wilt and die?
Max: [to Vincent] See what I mean? I didn't buy you flowers, Mom. He did.
Traffic Cop #2: Hey, man, what did you do, have a food fight in here?
Max: How do you like being a lawyer?
Annie: What are you, psychic?
Max: Little bit. There's the dark pin-stripe suit, elegant, not too flashy, that rules out advertising, plus a top-drawer briefcase that you live out of. And the purse. A Bottega. Anyway, a man gets in my cab with a sword, I figure he's a sushi chef. You: Clarence Darrow.
Max: [right before he crashes the cab, to Vincent] Go fuck yourself.
Vincent: Of all the cabbies in L.A. I get Max, Sigmund Freud meets Dr. Ruth.
Fanning: According to the cab company's dispatch unit, he's been driving that cab for twelve years.
Pedrosa: So what?
Fanning: So you're telling me the guy walks into a phone booth, and shazam, changes into a meat-eater super assassin? What's he do, squeeze them in between fares?
Felix: What do you think?
Max: I think...
[Max sees one of Felix's bodyguard draw his gun out]
Max: I think you should you should tell that guy behind me to put his gun down.
Max: I said I think you should tell that guy behind me to put his gun down, before I take it and beat his bitch ass with it.
Sergeant: Put your gun down!
Max: Get back put your hands down! Look,I gotta go!
Sergeant: Put down the gun!
Max: Stop moving! Stop moving. When did this become a negotiation?
[Max makes the sergeant cuff himself to the crashed cab]
Max: Clap your hands together. Hold your hands together. Listen, somebody's gonna get killed if I don't go right now. Now cuff yourself. I'm going to Sixth and Fig. Call the cops.
Max: What's with you, man?
Vincent: As in?
Max: As in, if somebody had a gun to your head and said, "You gotta tell me what's going on with this person over here or I'm gonna kill you. What is driving him? What is he thinking?" You know, you couldn't do it, could you? Because they would have to kill your ass because you don't know what anyone else is thinking. I think you're low, my brother. Way low.