I can’t be worrying about that shit. Life goes on, man.
-Jeffrey The Dude Lebowski
How’s the smut business, Jackie?
Hey, careful, man, there’s a beverage here!
Rug Peers did not do this. Look at it. A young trophy wife marries this guy for his money, she figures he hasn’t given her enough, she owes money all over town.
My wife? Bunny? Do you see a wedding ring on my finger? Does this place look like I’m fucking married? The toilet seat’s up man!
Walter, the Chinamen who peed on my rug I can’t give him a bill, so what the fuck are you talking about?
Nobody calls me Lebowski, you got the wrong guy. I’m the Dude, so that’s what you call me. That or, uh, His Dudeness, or uh, Duder, or El Duderino, if you’re not into the whole brevity thing.
Yeah, well, that’s just, like, your opinion, man.
Yeah, man, it really tied the room together.
I’m The Dude.
The Dude abides.
We fucked it up!
My only hope is that the Big Lebowski kills me before the Germans can cut my dick off.
At least I’m housebroken.
Yeah, but Walter…
I had a rough night and I hate the fucking Eagles, man.
Ahh, hey, this is a private residence man.
This aggression will not stand.
I hate the fucking Eagles, man.
You brought the fucking Pomeranian bowling?
Fucking Quintana… That creep can roll, man.
THE BIG LEBOWSKI: What makes a man? Is it doing the right thing? THE DUDE: Sure, that and a pair of testicles.
She probably kidnapped herself.
No, you’re not wrong Walter, you’re just an asshole.
Hey, I know that guy, he’s a nihilist. Karl Hungus.
Strikes and gutters, ups and downs.
Brother Seamus? Like an Irish monk?
I don’t need your sympathy, I need my Johnson.