Tommy: See, this is the kind of authentic Americana that you don't find in Rutherford.
Harry: Nope, only if you stand on our toilet and look out our bathroom window.
Tommy: What do you say to a cup of Joe and a hunk of pie?
Harry: I say, "Hello, pie."
Tommy: What am I, with the Rain Man? Where's the money? [Harry retrieves a few coins out of his pocket] I thought we had more money than this.
Harry: Well, I thought I had smaller holes in my pockets, but hey, that's what life on the road is all about. You know? Discovery.
Tommy: So then, what, are we completely tapped out now? No, you know what? This is good. This is good news, Harry. This is how stories are born. Yeah, I feel like Kerouac strolling into Bakersfield, broke, looking to make some walkin' money.
Harry: And I feel like Waldo. At the beach, poking out from behind that cabana.

Dick: Say, Sally, last night when we were out with Don and Mary, did you notice anything strange?
Sally: You mean the way they acted all weird when we talked about how good they are in bed?
Dick: No. No, the way they didn't say anything about how good we are in bed.
Sally: Hey, you're right! I mean, what kind of freaks don't openly discuss their lover's sex moves in public?
Dick: It's crazy, no?

Harry: Well, hello there, honky tonk angel. Anyone ever tell you that you're pretty enough to be on one of them naked lady mud flaps?
Nina: Anyone ever tell you to check under the hood and then drove right over you?

Harry: Well, what are you gonna do?
Tommy: I'm too organized. I'm too driven. I need to learn how to be irresponsible. I need to go to a place where my potential won't shine through and I can just veg out.
Harry: Does such a place exist?
Tommy: Yeah, it does. I'm going to college.

Sally: Hello, Don.
Don: Sally! You look dressed to kill.
Sally: No, Don, I'm dressed to win you back!
Don: Huh?
Sally: Look, come on. I know my curvy boobiness can't compare with Albright's mousy charms!
Don: Is this a trick? Because, you know, I can get backup just like that.
Sally: Oh, see, that's just it, Don. I don't have any tricks. But I want to learn. I want to satisfy you.
Don: So I kissed Albright, and you wanna satisfy me.
Sally: Oh, yes, please help me, Don.
Don: Well, I might be willing to teach you, but... it will be rigorous.
Sally: I'll wear my leather halter and sparkly wig.
Don: And we're back. [they kiss]

Dick: Yeah, so what's wrong with talking about sex? We'd just seen a whole movie about it.
Sally: I know. I mean, you see it everywhere. Magazines, billboards, music videos.
Dick: It's like the whole planet revolves around it, but when it comes to praising my attributes as a lover, Mary is bizarrely silent.
Sally: Well, Don wasn't exactly beating the drum for me, either. Think that's cause there's nothing to talk about?
Dick: Oh, are you saying we're no good in the sack? [laughs]
Both: Oh, my God!

Dick: Oh, look! That sexy new French film opened. They shot it two years ago, but had to wait until the actress was of legal age.
Harry: Yeah, I saw that movie yesterday.
Sally: Hey, how was it?
Tommy: I heard there was an awesome shower scene.
Harry: Oh, yeah. But then this naked girl got in, and you could barely see the shower.

Sally: Fine, but do me a favor this time. When we get to the theater don't yell "Fire!" just to see what everybody will do; it's my turn.
Dick: Agreed. Well, family, I'm off to work. [exits]
Tommy: See you later.
Dick: [returns] Fire! Fire! [screaming panic] [laughing] It's never not funny. [exits]
Harry: That guy's got a million of 'em.
Tommy: Yeah, and they're all that one.

Phil: Can I help you boys?
Tommy: You sure can, Phil. My friend and I here haven't had a hot meal for a good two hours.
Harry: We're hungry drifters.
Tommy: That we are, and we'd be willing to work for our two squares a day. I'm pretty handy, and my friend here, um, can draw fanciful caricatures of your patrons.
Harry: Fanciful caricatures. [draws] That look familiar?
Phil: It's a square with "Phil" written inside it.
Harry: Keep it.

Tommy: [drums] I stepped hopeful out of a dank shoebox attic in Rutherford, Ohio in the wheat-swept breadbasket of America. America, and now I dwell in a grease-marked palace of drills spills and guys named, "Phil."
Phil: All right. I'm famous.
Tommy: So Phil, tell me your story. What brought you to this gas station? Was it the call of the open road? The never-ending circus of passing strangers?
Phil: Well, I didn't graduate from high school, and then my dad died.
Tommy: That's a tragic story. I'm so jealous.