Creasy: Forgiveness is between them and God. It's my job to arrange the meeting.
Creasy: I got all the time in the world. You don't, but I do.
Creasy: I'm goin' home, too. I'm goin' to Blue Bayou.
Creasy: I'm going home, I'm going to Blue Bayou.
Creasy: Last wish? I wish you had more time.
Creasy: No, that's ancient history!
Creasy: No. What kind of question is that, anyway? You're supposed to be studying history, okay?
Creasy: Okay, my friend. It's off to the next life for you. I guarantee you, you won't be lonely.
Creasy: Revenge is a meal best served cold.
Creasy: That's what everybody keeps saying. "I'm just a professional". Everybody keeps saying that to me. "I'm just a professional", "I'm just a professional". I'm getting sick and tired of hearing that.
Creasy: Well, onto the next life for you my friend. I promise you won't be lonely.
Creasy: What I do best. I'm gonna kill 'em. Anyone that was involved. Anybody who profited from it. Anybody who opens their eyes at me.
Creasy: What I do best: I'm gonna kill 'em. Anyone who was involved, anyone who profited from it, anyone who opens their eyes at me.
Creasy: What kind of question is that? You're supposed to be studying history.
Creasy: What?
Creasy: You know, that's what everyone keeps saying to me. "I'm just a professional", "I'm just a professional", I'm tired of hearing it!
Creasy: [talking to "The Voice" on the phone right after shooting his brothers hand] I'm gonna take your family apart piece by piece, you understand me? Piece by piece.
Fuentes: A last wish, please, please. Please.
Fuentes: I'm just a professional, my friend.
Fuentes: Wait! Last wish?
Fuentes: You know, I-I'm a professional.
Lisa: What are you going to do?
Lisa: What are you gonna do?
Lisa: [Whispering] You kill 'em all.
Manzano: Hey, hey... when can I sleep with you again?
Manzano: Mariana?
Manzano: When do I get to sleep with you again?
Mariana: Sí.
Mariana: We never sleep. We fuck.
Pita: Do you have a girlfriend, Creasy?
Pita: It *is* history: Creasy history.
Pita: It is history... Creasy history.
Pita: You have a girlfriend?
Rayburn: A bullet always tells the truth.
Rayburn: A man can be an artist in anything. Food... wine... it depends on how good he is at it. Creasey's art is death, and he's about to paint his masterpiece. Stay out of his way.
Rayburn: And they're gonna wish they never touched a hair on her head.
Rayburn: Creasy's gonna make them wish they hadn't touched one hair on her head.
Rayburn: He'll deliver more justice in a weekend than ten years of your courts and tribunals.
[Creasy has rectally inserted a timer bomb on a five minute countdown into Fuentes]
[last lines]