30 Best Smokin' Aces Quotes

Bill: No, we've been looking to renovate this area of our hotel for some time.

Hollis: If this Israel really is the great whale of snitches, then what are we doing messing with the mob, who are correct me if I'm wrong, but I think they're gonna pour boxes of bullets into his ass?
"Pistol": [agitated] Here we go.
Hollis: What incentive is there, to track him on something small time as a fucking skip trace?
Jack: So I take it you're not going?
Hollis: No, no. I'm going to Kentucky to take Fort Knox with a fucking slingshot, and then I'm going to hell after Hitler.
"Pistol": Would you please find your fangs! You fucking coward. What is wrong with you?
[Hollis shows him the middle finger]
"Pistol": Seriously, what is wrong with you?

Richard: [while staring at the comatose Buddy Israel and Primo Sparazza] Make it make sense.
Stanley: They are father and son. Israel's mother was nineteen at the time. She and Sparazza had a brief affair of which Israel was the byproduct. That same year, she brought a paternity suit against him.
Richard: Our surveillance of Padiche, Serna...
Stanley: All bogus and bad information that set off a series of unfortunate events. Dr. Ingstrom, the Swede, is not a hired killer. He's actually the head of cardiology at Stockholm University. He's one of the best heart surgeons in the world. The actual contract went to Lazlo Soot, the man who escaped the penthouse yesterday... in disguise. He was hired by Sparazza to neutralize Israel's entourage. Dr. Ingstrom was here to perform the surgery, and as father and son, they are blood compatible.
Richard: You're talking about a transplant, aren't you? You're talking about a fucking heart transplant. You're gonna kill Israel to save Sparazza
Stanley: [hands Messner a folder] No.
[reffering to Sparazza's plastic surgery]
Stanley: It wasn't elective. It was undertaken to save his life. It wasn't cosmetic. It was reconstructive. Look at the date of the first procedure. Same year that Sparazza supposedly murdered Freeman Heller.
Freeman Heller: [flashback] I'd like to show you exactly what I meant when I said, "Change my face." Using the latest techniques in cosmetic surgery, I will have my ears pinned back. Removing a slight piece of bone in my chin I will alter my jaw line. A procedure known as rhinoplasty will reduce the size of my nose. If you add facial hair to the equation, gentlemen, you have a face that looks nothing like mine and more importantly, nothing like a federal agent's.
Richard: [present day] Oh, Christ.
Freeman Heller: [flashback] I will maintain a slight limp. My accent will be a regional Calabrese. My birthplace, Cosenza, Italy.
Richard: [present day] That's him.
Freeman Heller: [flashback] And my name...
Richard: [present day] That's Heller.
Freeman Heller: [flashback] ... will be Primo Sparazza. Now, gentlemen, I understand that this is a dramatic approach.
Stanley: [present day] He went deep cover in 1940. He could have ripped the Mafia apart.
Freeman Heller: [flashback] But I firmly believe...
Stanley: [present day] Dismantled most of the organized crime in this country.
Freeman Heller: [flashback] ... this is the only way to truly infiltrate organized crime.
Stanley: His superiors were convinced that he had gone rogue, swapped allegiances, so they gave the order to terminate his cover. All this time, we were told that it was Sparazza that killed Heller, when it was us, the FBI. And we didn't kill him. He survived. But the injuries he sustained required constant surgery, forever alterine his features. So he assumed the identity of his alter ego. The figment of Primo Sparazza became flesh and blood, and Freeman Heller was no more. Now, the brass wanted Heller's op removed from official records, so they buried it completely and they wrote Heller off. All the agents from that era, they're dead and gone, so history defaulted to fable. Until now. Heller's op predated the second World War. About 60 years of amassed intel. Do you have any idea how valuable that is?
Richard: Yeah. So you made another deal, didn't you?
Stanley: Israel's deal with the government was tossed out. We are now trying to rehabilitate him, so we can attempt a transplant.
Richard: You realize that you're doing this to save Sparazza?
Stanley: No, son. I'm doing all this to save Heller.

Rip: ...I bet you guys got a lot of stories, right? I don't. I grew up soft with the private schools and the little blazers, you know, and everyone "talked things out," you know? No one ever threw any blows - still to this day, never punched in the face, imagine that. I'm pretty much a pantywaist. I don't say this to be self-deprecating, I just, you know, don't have much of an opinion of myself. I'd much rather be like you guys, you know, bar fighters and big, swinging dicks, takin' care of shit. You know, sadly this is it, you know, it's disgusting - "Thanks, God! Dog-pile of piss-poor physique on top of a small cock and hereditary alcoholism, 'preciate it!" I'm babbling, I do that drunk, please forgive.

Rip: He drinks, you know. Self-medicates, total cliche, this guy. He's a strung-out, washed-up, has-been, jerk, snitch fuckin' drunk seven-layer loser. Right. And I'm prayin' he puts up a fight. Please please please. Rape him! If it's possible. Punch him in the seat if it's possible. Hit him in the brown. I don't know. Anyway...

Stanley: Sparazza introduced Israel into the life. Gave him his first big break onstage, brought him up through the ranks. And Israel played the situation very shrewdly, slowly amassing the loyalties of Sparazza's top men, with the idea of toppling the throne.
Donald: You know, I've seen some stupid moves, but...
Stanley: Well, you spend your life pulling rabbits out of hats and sawing people in half, anything seems possible. Israel wanted to touch something real, something dangerous. But what he wound up doing was splitting up the family into dual factions. Sparazza on one side, Israel on the other. The infighting that followed drew the attention of every investigatory body operating under the canopy of the federal government. Presently, we have...
FBI: Sixteen state and federally-funded agencies running concurrent criminal probes on select members of La Cosa Nostra.
Stanley: With Israel being the target of virtually every one. His testimony has the potential of blowing the lid off of what's left of La Cosa Nostra in this country. That alone warrants total immunity from prosecution and a vanishing act with the Witness Protection Program.

Bernard: [on the phone with pimp, as one of the hookers falls over and breaks a glass table] Whoa! Heh! I hope you provide some serious medical insurance, 'cause one of your bitches just got fucked up!

Sharice: [watching a bunch of prostitutes enter the hotel] The ho train has left the station.

Darwin: [manipulating Dupree's mouth so Jack seems to be speaking to him] Oh hell yeah, we was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, so don't feel so bad, chief.

Sir: What'd you say to Mecklen?
Buddy: What I've always been sayin', let's make the fuckin' deal.
Sir: You see... this is one of the rare moments, where your ass gets to be completely honest... and if i'm asking you what you said to Mecklen, assume the shit is rhetorical, assume I already know.
Buddy: What do you see right now? You see exactly, and only what I choose to show you. That is illusion Ivy, that is the lie that I tell your eyes, makin' the magic happen, in the moment, in that split second... but seeing behind this motherfucker and knowing... that it's all bullshit.
Sir: Yeah, you on some bullshit.
Buddy: But I can shape it, I can shift it, I can make it as real as this room. That's why i'm valuable here Ivy and that is why you are not.
Sir: I ain't valuable?
Buddy: I am sorry, I love you, I never wanted it to be like this, you know that.

Buddy: These flowers are wilted, call the florist.
Sir: I need you to chill.
Buddy: I need you to call the florist.

Rip: [giving Hollis a 'pound'] Bones it... huh... and you padlock it, and then you put the chain on it. That's a new one, that I'm working on.
[to Jack, about Hollis]
Rip: I'm really getting the hairy eyeball off that guy...

Margie: My boy Dale is at the Reno Correctional Facility. He's got some clarity issues. Did some home invasion, sodomy-torture type stuff; wrote a lot of bad checks.

Hollis: You shot me, and you murdered my friends... and you dumped us in the lake.
Darwin: Pretty much.

[Carruthers is in an elevator with Pasquale Acosta, who is pretending to be Bill, a dead security manager]
Pasquale Acosta "S.A. Gerald Diego": [pretending his radio is dead] I don't believe this. Battery's completely dead.
[Carruthers tries his mobile phone]
Pasquale Acosta "S.A. Gerald Diego": Oh... forget it. Won't get a signal in here. You'll have to wait.
Donald: [points to the emergency phone] Well, what about that line? Can't you contact your people with that?
Pasquale Acosta "S.A. Gerald Diego": No, these phones are hard-wired directly to maintenance. But, once we reach the penthouse, I can call down, I'll have the elevators taken offline, sir.
[Mildly agitated, Carruthers looks down and notices something about 'Bill']
Stanley: [Carruthers' remembers Locke's briefing]
[voiceover]
Stanley: "Pasquale Acosta. Blood-money mercenary. "El Estrago" - "The Plague".
[Carruthers' notices Acosta's damaged fingertips]
Stanley: [voiceover] "When he was caught by the SAS in Belfast, and in prison, he chewed off his fingertips to the bone."
Donald: [Carruthers becomes very suspicious] Why don't you have maintenance do it?
Pasquale Acosta "S.A. Gerald Diego": Do what, sir?
Donald: Shut the elevator down.
Pasquale Acosta "S.A. Gerald Diego": An emergency shutdown of our entire elevated lift system, sir? No, that has to be handled by my staff, sir.
Donald: [becoming even more cautious] How long have you been working here?
Donald: [slowly reaches for his gun] Bill?
Staff: [Acosta notices movement in the reflection of the elevator]
[Over the radio]
Staff: Oh my God! I need an ambulance for Bill! I'm in the security room.
[Carruthers pulls his gun out, while Acosta turns around and impales him with his wrist blade. A shootout ensues between Carruthers and Acosta]

Buddy: You're looking at me like, like... I just asked you the fucking square root of something.

Georgia: Once I'm inside, I'm putting chrome to Israel's head and backing out hot. Anybody get gully, you know.
Sharice: I'm gonna grip and rip. I got some handloads up here ready to put some niggas out. Trust me.
Georgia: Just remember it's more of a rescue than a rampage, all right?
Sharice: Hey, come on, man. You know I had bring big mama through.
Georgia: You got the .50 up?
Sharice: Sure do.
Georgia: What the fuck? What the fuck are you trying to shoot? A jumbo jet out of the sky? Blast down the moon?
Sharice: Any of these niggas make one false move, these bitches taking dirt naps. I ain't trying to be up here all day. And I tell you what. That bitch-ass fed get in the way, RIP, nigga.

[realising that Aces is turning him in to the FBI]
Sir: Sending me off like your last chip?
Buddy: You know I wouldn't.
Sir: You outta your fucking mind.
[reaches for his gun]
Buddy: If you...
[throws a card and cuts Ivy's eye]
Sir: Motherfucker!
[fires blindly]

Jack: How about the Tremor brothers? Three of them; same skank mom, different deadbeat dads. They're used for that suicide-style, kamikaze shit. Heard about that dinner club in Cleveland?
"Pistol": That got squat-fucked, shot-to-shit, slashed, and burned?
Hollis: What happened?
Jack: Well the Tremor brothers go rip-shit riot on the whole fucking place. Seven dead, twenty-eight wounded. Just to get this one fucking guy. In the course of the melee, one of them gets shot in the neck - he passes out. Another one catches blowback from a jammed piece - he's temporarily blinded. Third one gets a bullet lodged in his back - he can't walk. They're speed-freak, neo-Nazi assholes who read and recite Mein Kampf like it was Mother Goose. They're meaner than shit, they're dumber than hell, and these motherfuckers will go megaton at the drop of a hat.

Pasquale Acosta "S.A. Gerald Diego": What, you got some sultan up there?

Sharice: Let me ask you a question. Y'all let hoochies like stay up in here? I mean, 'cause y'all must be burning sheets by the ton.
Hotel: Well...
Sharice: As a female, that shit right there don't get you? Okay, it's bitches like that they reason why niggas don't pay our species any mind! They don't respect us? Yeah, we just meat for male consumption. Pieces of ass and pussy. Something pretty in lipstick and eyeliner that can suck a fucking cock!

[Messner has learned the truth about Sparazza and is upset about losing his partner for nothing]
Richard: You tell me something. Is he the Rosetta Stone? He's gonna blow the lid off the last sixty years?

[Hollis is playing with Rip's rabbit mask]
Rip: Hey man. That's not yours.
"Pistol": [to Hollis] Put the fucking rabbit down!
Rip: Appreciate it man, get your dick beaters off it.

Pasquale Acosta "S.A. Gerald Diego": I'd like to see the penthouse.

Buddy: Will you tell me what that is?
Hugo: About what?
Buddy: Look at the coller on that coat... whats that look like, that stain?
Hugo: I dunno... Cinnamon roll?
Buddy: Cinnamon roll? the cinnamon, the roll of the cinnamon. That looks like jizz... ya Eastern European jizz, that looks like some fuckhead shot his load on a 12000 dollar calf's skin jacket. The twist? Its my 12000 dollar calf's skin jacket. So ya got the semon, ok you got the human ejaculate
[checks watch]
Buddy: thats been allowed to soak in for like seven hours alright. Work its way into the fabric fuckin fibers...
Hugo: If you like I send out?
Buddy: ...To what? Incinerate? Hugo there isn't a fuckin laundry detergent or dry cleaning product known to man that will get that clean. Some shit, suffice it to say, just don't wash out.
Hugo: Do you want an apology?
Buddy: Only if you really truly mean it.
Hugo: Im very sorry,
Buddy: Are you a Collasal fuckin idiot?
Hugo: I am idiot.
Buddy: Get the phone, it's probably Mecklin. Get Fatolli up here and start cleaning all right? and please for me will you do one thing?
Buddy: [Card trick putting a card on Hugo's forehead]
Buddy: Get out of my fucking sight.

Richard: [asking about his wounds] How bad?
Donald: [weakly] Mortal.
Richard: What?
Donald: Mortal.
Richard: No. Fuck!

Buddy: You with me, baby?

Lazlo: [impersonating the dead butler's voice] My name is Vitolli, how can I be of assistance?

Warren: I feel like you're eyeballin' me, dawg! I don't like punk bitches eyeballin' me! You got beef? You got beef? You want some of this?

Darwin: [manipulating Dupree's mouth so Jack seems to be speaking to him] Don't worry, I forgive you Darwin.