Lawyer: This case involves big-rig trucks. Do you have any feelings on big rigs?
Dick: Yes, of course. I think anyone who drives one is guilty, right?
Lawyer: Thank you. You're excused.
Dick: Guilty of bringing the world joy! I love big rigs!

Dick: So what did this Chris foster do?
Irving: Telemarketing fraud.
Dick: Well, how will they prove-
Irving: Shh! We're not supposed to talk.
Dick: [inner monologue] Chris Foster, snake oil salesman with the salad oil hair, an Armani-clad, private-jet-piloting huckster who gets his kicks flying mom and pop into the poorhouse. Well, fasten your seat belt, Foster, I'm bringing you down. Deplane. It's judgment day.
Judge: Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and the defendant will rise.
Dick: [inner monologue] That's right. Show your ugly face, you fiend.
Foster: Your honor.
Dick: Oh, my God! It's that nice man from the vending machine.

Don: Sally, my God, what have you done?
Sally: Seth has convinced me to reject the media's definition of what a woman is. From now on, you'll never see me in tight jeans or a push-up bra or thong underwear. In fact, I'm done with underwear for good.
Don: Hmm. Why?
Sally: Seth helped me see who I really am. [English accent] I'm a different person now.
Don: You're talking crazy. You don't paint a mustache on the Mona Lisa. You don't eat steak on Thanksgiving. And you don't muck around with Sally.
Seth: Officer, why is there a boot on my car?
Don: Some guys get a pretty lady. Some guys get the boot. Life ain't fair.

Don: Sally, I was surprised to hear from you.
Sally: [English accent] I want to know what's goin' on? Seth's got a lot of parkin' tickets. Tell the man to chill.
Don: I see. Well, you know what, Sally? This man is "the man."
Sally: You the man?
Don: I the man.
Sally: Well, why are you doin' it?
Don: Because, Sally, he, uh, he parks his car slightly askew. Sometimes it's just weird-looking the way he parks it.
Sally: And that's a crime?
Don: According to the letter of the law, it's not technically a crime, per se. But it's a big faux pas.

Sally: [English accent] Oh, he's guilty? Guilty of not being able to buy justice with some high-priced lawyer.
Dick: Actually, he has a high-priced lawyer. He made a nice fortune swindling people.
Don: So he is guilty.
Dick: Well, maybe he is, but why do I have to be the one who sends him away? I'm the final batter, juror number four. It's the bottom of the ninth inning. The count is eleven and one. Foster's in the penalty box waiting for the two-minute warning. But who's gonna blow the whistle on him? Not the umpire! Me!
Don: Don't watch a lot of baseball, do you, Dick?
Sally: What a load of cobblers.

Judge: Juror number 4, how do you vote?
Dick: You are so guilty, you stupid man! There was no way for me not to convict you, and I tried. I was so dedicated, I snuck out of the motor lodge and talked to my friends and family about this case.
Judge: You spoke with others about the facts of this case during the deliberation process?
Dick: Yes. To anyone who would listen.
Lawyer: Your honor, I move for a mistrial.
Judge: Granted. [all groan]
Dick: Does that mean he's not going to jail?
Irving: No. Thanks to you, there's going to be a new trial.
Dick: Am I gonna be on the jury?
Irving: No.
Dick: Yes!

Dick: The jury system is like a never-ending battle. Justice always depends on fair-minded humans outnumbering the bigots, fools, and cowards.
Sally: Yeah, which one are you?
Dick: Fair-minded coward.

Mary: Nina, how many students have signed up for my demonstration?
Nina: None.
Mary: None?!
Nina: Oh, wait. None.

Dick: No one wants to do it?
Nina: I know. You'd think kids would be lined up for $10 a day.
Mary: You don't have to be sarcastic. I'd have 50 students lined up if it wasn't for that damn financial aid.

Harry: Well, what a huge honor.
Tommy: A tremendous opportunity.
Dick: Well, thank you, boys.
Tommy: No. No, not you, Dick. Albright's offering 10 bucks a day for people not to talk.
Mary: Are you interested?
Harry: Are you kidding? That's double what Sally pays.