Omar White: Hey, Busmalis! I know your secret.
Busmalis: I have a secret?
Omar White: A little secret about dirt, ya dig?

Omar White: I don't like you.
Guerra: Oh, you don't like me?
Omar White: Yeah, I don't know if it's your hair, the way you look, the way you smell. It's just something about you rubs me the wrong way!
Guerra: Oh yeah? Fuck you, nigger.
(Omar stabs him)

Pancamo: In his day, Antonio Napa was a great man. He was like a father to me. Well, more like an uncle.

Peter Schibetta: Hi, Chuckie. What do you want to talk about?
Pancamo: Oh, this and that. Life and death. My life...
[draws a shank].......and YOUR DEATH! [kills Schibetta]

Querns: Don't fuck with Querns!

Rebadow: God comes to visit me every once in a while. Actually, he comes more often than I'd like but it's God. What can I say? That I'm busy, that I'm in the shower? He knows.
Burrano: We talking about a burning bush here?
Rebadow: No, it's more like a strobe. A little too flashy, a little cheesy for my taste.

Rebadow: In all my years at Oz, I've learned one rule: accept the hand you're dealt.

Redding: I ain't gonna apologize for who I am or what I done, all right? Do I wish things had been diffrent? Sure. Do I wish we'd lived on one of those fancy homes on Kellogg Boulevard? Sure. But I don't hope and I don't dream. I take a shit in this world, I see reality and I make the best of it.

Reporter: Shirley, do you have any thoughts as the hour approaches?
Shirley: Thoughts? Of course I have thoughts, how could I not?
Reporter: Would you share them with us?
Shirley: Sure. I'm wondering why anyone cares what my thoughts are. Sure as hell didn't care when my husband was drunk and beat me. Or my father-in-law rape me. No, it wasn't until I killed my daughter, until I did something horrific that what I think matters. All I wanted was for someone to pay attention and now that they finally are, I see that my life then, or now, isn't worth shit.

Robson: Yo! Sorry about what happened to Leroy Tidd, or Ooga booga, or whatever the fuck you called him.
[Said starts pounding on Robson]

Robson: You fucking nigger!
Said: NIGGER! You wanna see the nigger in me!
[pounding intensifies]

Robson: [in the hospital] That spade motherfuckin', that cock motherfuck, motherfuckin' NIGGER!
[cut to Muslims]

Ross: I'm gonna give you ten minutes to get your hand off my dick!

Said: (checking in a new inmate) Number? Number?
Andrew: 9-9-S-3-3-3. (grabs his bedding and walks away)
Said: (to another inmate) That boy's last name. Know what it was? Schillinger.

Said: Beecher, don't do this.
Beecher: Do what?
Said: Drink.
Beecher: You like to dabble in peoples' lives, huh? Because you're so much better than us, because you've seen the light. You've seen the face of God. So you wave your dick around trying to help us lowly mortals. Hill, Mershah, Groves, Jefferson Keane. Fuck, you helped Jefferson Keane right into a lethal injection. So in the end, when all is said and done, who have you really fucking helped? Other than yourself?
Said: (proudly) Poet.
Beecher: Poet? I just saw on the news, he killed a man. He's coming back to Oz.