Dom Hemingway (2013)
Paolina: I don't know who this man is.
Dom Hemingway: Oh. I'll tell you who I am. I'm the fucker who'll tear your nose off with my teeth. I'm the fucker who will gut you with a dull cheese knife and sing Gilbert and Sullivan while I do it. I'm the fucker who'll dump your dead body in a freezing cold lake and watch you sink to the bottom like so much shit. I am that fucker. That's the fucker who I am.
Dom Hemingway: Oh, my head is throbbing. It's fuckin' throbbin', Dickie. Like a disco in my head. Like a fucking Manila disco full of transvestites and suckling pigs.
Dom Hemingway: Fontaine better have a well-stocked bar.
Dickie Black: He was raised in a Russian orphanage and kills people for a living. Of course he has a well-stocked bar.
Dom Hemingway: I should fucking kill you, but I fancy a pint instead.
Lestor: See, there is a part of me that wants to put you in the trunk of my sister's Prius, drive you up to Canvey Island and bury you up to your thick fucking neck, cover your fat fucking face in hamburger patties and let the creatures of the night eat you to death while I watch.
Dickie Black: [referring to girl on bike] Dom, I know what you're thinking, but that's Fontaine's property.
Dom Hemingway: Property is a relative term for a thief.
Dom Hemingway: I'm Dom. Dom is English for "unlucky son of a bitch".
Dom Hemingway: I seen death. I seen evil. I seen fire. I seen rain. I seen lonely days I thought would never end. You don't fucking scare me! I fuck you!
Hugh: Whatever happened to you it sure wasn't pretty.
Dom Hemingway: Misfortune. Misfortune befell me.
Dom Hemingway: And that, my friends, is how you open a safe!
Dom Hemingway: You fucker! My betrothed. You're nothing but a pestilence, an uphill gardener with a weak chin. You're a filthafising thief, that's what you are. You think you can steal from me? From me? From Dom Hemingway?