You’re not the run-of-the-mill kind of a**hole, are you, Jimmy? You’re the special kind of a**hole.
You moldering motherf***er, don’t even think about coming back a murder. Don’t even think of that s***.[to a dead body]
You can go a long way in this country killing black folk. Young males especially. Misdemeanor homicides.
Well, would we be police if we could?[Rhonda Pearlman: You all cannot spell for s***.]
They say a police is only as good as his informants. Meaning, we ain’t about much.[to Beadie]
There you go, giving a f*** when it ain’t your turn to give a f***.[to McNulty]
The Bunk is strictly a suit-and-tie motherf***er. At all hazards, a man must keep up appearances. Dignity, I say. Dignity above all, Governor.
The Bunk can’t swim. I ain’t too good at floating, either.
The bigger the lie, the more they believe.
S*** is like a war, ain’t it? Easy to get in, hell to get out.
Oh, yeah? Your a**hole still hurting?[Ray Cole: Got laid last night, that’s why.]
Maybe you ought to set up an easel on the sidewalk and do a sketch instead.[McNulty has trouble loading up the camera]
