His name’s Verbal. Verbal Kint.
“Fuck You.” That’s my name. You know why, mister? You drove a Hyundai to get here. I drove an eighty-thousand dollar BMW. THAT’S my name.
I am… Batman.
I only work in black and sometimes very, very dark gray.
Barb, honey… we’re dead. I don’t think we have very much to worry about anymore.
Obviously, Bernie felt he owed us something, some small favor, for discovering those company mistakes. That’s why he invited us here. It would be disrespectful not to grant his final wish. All’s I’m saying is: why don’t we pretend he didn’t die? Just for a bit?
You can stuff him, for all I care. Stuff him and put him in a glass case, only I’d suggest frosted glass.
That’s a suggestion. They have to put that on there.
I just did. It’s Trigger!
Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker.
If you wanna call me that, smile.
Do I amuse you?
I can hear you in there laughing at me. This is it you duck fart! I’m leaving and I’m never coming back!
You can’t go! All the plants are gonna die!
Sometimes, dead is better.
Here – he says he’s not dead!
Yes. According to this, he died four times. So somebody screwed up. It wasn’t us…was it?
Your mistakes are what make you human.
The hot type of human?
No, don’t worry. You’re not my type.