R.I.P.
Motorcycle Cop: Do you know what the penalty for animal cruelty is in this state?
Clark: No, sir, I don't.
Motorcycle Cop: Well... it's probably pretty stiff.
Clark: Could I do your back, honey?
Ellen Griswold: I've already done my back.
Clark: Could I do your front?
Ellen Griswold: Go do your own front.
Clark: I think you're all fucked in the head. We're ten hours from the fucking fun park and you want to bail out. Well I'll tell you something. This is no longer a vacation. It's a quest. It's a quest for fun. I'm gonna have fun and you're gonna have fun. We're all gonna have so much fucking fun we'll need plastic surgeory to remove our godamn smiles. You'll be whistling 'Zip-A-Dee Doo-Dah' out of you're assholes! I gotta be crazy! I'm on a pilgrimage to see a moose. Praise Marty Moose! Holy Shit!
Rusty Griswold: [Grab's Clars shoulder] Dad, you want an Asprin?
Clark: DON'T TOUCH!
Ed, the car salesman: I'm just as upset as you are, believe me. Davenport! Get Mr. Griswald's car back and bring it back here! Now I can get you the wagon, there's not problem there. The problem is that it might take six weeks. Now, I owe it to myself to tell you that if you're taking the whole tribe cross-country, the Wagon Queen Family Truckster... You think you hate it now, wait 'til you drive it.
Cousin Eddie: I don't know why they call this stuff hamburger helper. It does just fine by itself.
Cousin Vicki: I'm going steady, and I French kiss.
Audrey Griswold: So? Everybody does that.
Cousin Vicki: Yeah, but Daddy says I'm the best at it.
Rusty Griswold: Wow dad, we must have jumped that rail by like 50 yards.
Clark: Nothing to be proud of Russ...
[pauses as Rusty walks away]
Clark: [proudly] ... 50 yards...
Clark: Now you listen to me fat ass, you do wat I say and there won't be any problem, OK? Ok. We just drove 2, 460 miles for a little Roy Wally entertainment. The Moose says you're closed - I say you're open.
[Todd and Margo Chester, the Griswold's yuppie neighbors, appear]
Todd: Hey Griswold. Where do you think you're gonna put a tree that big?
Clark: Bend over and I'll show you.
Todd: You've got a lot of nerve talking to me like that Griswold.
Clark: I wasn't talking to you.
Ed Rooney: What's the score?
Pizza Joint Owner: Nothin' nothin'.
Ed Rooney: Who's winning?
Pizza Joint Owner: The Bears.
Bueller?... Bueller?...
Jeannie: Look, it's real nice that you hope my brother is feeling better, but I'm in danger, okay? I am very cute, very alone and very protective of my body. I don't want it violated or killed, all right? I need help! Speaka de English? DICKHEAD!
Ferris: The key to faking out the parents is the clammy hands. It's a good non-specific symptom; I'm a big believer in it. A lot of people will tell you that a good phony fever is a dead lock, but, uh... you get a nervous mother, you could wind up in a doctor's office. That's worse than school. You fake a stomach cramp, and when you're bent over, moaning and wailing, you lick your palms. It's a little childish and stupid, but then, so is high school.
Ferris: Pardon my French, but Cameron is so tight that if you stuck a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks you'd have a diamond.
Ferris: I do have a test today, that wasn't bullshit. It's on European socialism. I mean, really, what's the point? I'm not European. I don't plan on being European. So who gives a crap if they're socialists? They could be fascist anarchists, it still doesn't change the fact that I don't own a car.
The Geek: So, what's your story? I mean, you got a guy, or...?
Samantha: Yes, three big ones, and they lust wimp blood so quit bugging me or I'll sic them all over your weenie ass.
Richard Vernon: Well, well. Here we are. You have exactly eight hours and fifty-four minutes to think about why you're here. You may not talk, you will not move from these seats. Any questions?
John Bender: Yeah. Does Barry Manilow know that you raid his wardrobe?
Brian Johnson: I'm a fucking idiot because I can't make a lamp?
John Bender: No. You're a genius because you can't make a lamp.
Buck: Take this quarter, go downtown, and have a rat gnaw that thing off your face.
Andie: You know your talking like that just because I'm going out with Blane
Duckie: His name is Blane? Oh! That's a major appliance - that's not a name!
Car Rental Agent: [cheerfully] Welcome to Marathon, may I help you?
Neal: Yes.
Car Rental Agent: How may I help you?
Neal: You can start by wiping that fucking dumb-ass smile off your rosey, fucking, cheeks! Then you can give me a fucking automobile: a fucking Datsun, a fucking Toyota, a fucking Mustang, a fucking Buick! Four fucking wheels and a seat!
Car Rental Agent: I really don't care for the way you're speaking to me.
Neal: And I really don't care for the way your company left me in the middle of fucking nowhere with fucking keys to a fucking car that isn't fucking there. And I really didn't care to fucking walk down a fucking highway and across a fucking runway to get back here to have you smile in my fucking face. I want a fucking car RIGHT FUCKING NOW!
Car Rental Agent: May I see your rental agreement?
Neal: I threw it away.
Car Rental Agent: Oh boy.
Neal: Oh boy, what?
Car Rental Agent: You're fucked.
State Trooper: What the hell are you driving here?
Del: We had a small fire last night, but we caught it in the nick of time.
State Trooper: Do you have any idea how fast you were going?
Del: Funny enough, I was just talking to my friend about that. Our speedometer has melted and as a result it's very hard to see with any degree of accuracy exactly how fast we were going.
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