“I’m not guilty of uxoricide.”
“Meh.”
“He-e-e-e-e-r-es Jack Torrance!”
Say hello to my anthropomorphized M-16 assault riffle which I have illegally modified for full automatic fire and attached an M203 grenade launcher.
HEY! I’m using my legs and feet for locomoting, here!
<Am I the only one who can’t figure out Elendil’s contributions?>
I got half of 'em, and half of the remaining half are on the tip of my tongue; Hell, he be more erudite than I be.
Oh, Toto, I think we’re out of Topeka!
“Observe how intelligent Brett is!”
Step away from the little girl, you female alien.
Yabba-Dabba-Doo, Motherf**ker!
Or perhaps “Yippee-ki-yay, little dogy.”
I’m looking for Carl LaFong. The name is spelled just like it’s pronounced, and the F is capitalized.
Keyser Söze’s my boss.
You know how to whistle, don’t you? You just purse your lips… you know, make a little hole, then expel air through them until it makes a musical sound.
I’m still going with post #121.
Oh, the severe discomfort! The severe discomfort!
“I’m the son of a sea cook!” 
The actual final line of the play Arsenic and Old Lace was a delighted “I’m a bastard!” The studio ruined the line when they made the movie/
I have developed a romantic attraction towards you.
Of that data point, I am cognizant.
.
“We’re going to hold onto him by the nose and we’re going to kick him in the tushie.”
I’m going to re-enact the Middle Ages upon your gluteus maximus.