Andrew: My whole life, crammed into my head, how superior we white folks are. I don't see the truth in that. I look around this room, and all I see are white faces, black faces, every color in between, and the only thing I know for sure is that we are all shit. Shit don't come in degrees. White or black, shit is shit. So fuck everything you believe, fuck everything you stand for, and fuck you!
Schillinger: (slaps Andrew) Don't you talk to me like that!
Andrew: Old man, you hit me way too many times growing up! (attacks Schillinger)

Beecher: I gotta pray; pray that God shows me the way to fuck Schillinger!

Beecher: I know you're gonna think this is bullshit. But I feel very badly about my part in Andy's death. Losing a kid, there's nothing worse. And I want to make it up to you.
Schillinger: How? How can you ever make it up to me?
Beecher: You have another son. You don't know where he is. Through my partners at my old law office, I could find him.
Schillinger: And that's supposed to even the score? Make everything okay?
Beecher: It's a start.
Schillinger: Beecher, you're crazier than I thought. There's only one way things will ever be alright between us. You DEAD!

Beecher: I was raised Episcopalian, which means we thought about God an hour once a week. But you, you think about Him all the time.
Said: Yes.
Beecher: Why?
Said: I want to know Him.
Beecher: Me too. I want to know God, and I want Him to know me. I want Him to know that I'm still here. That I'm still stuck in this place.
Said: He knows.

Beecher: You got any tattoos?
Andrew: Yeah, a couple. (removes his shirt to reveal a few tattoos)
Beecher: Very nice.
Andrew: How about you?
Beecher: I got one.
Andrew: Yeah? Let me see it.
Beecher: Someday. We don't know each other that well yet.

Busmalis: (regarding Kosygin) I tried talking to him at dinner, and he just stared at me, frozen like the tundra. He scares the living shit out of me.

Busmalis: You're a Russian?
Nikolai: Yes.
Busmalis: From Russia?
Nikolai: Yes.
Busmalis: You were born in Russia?
Nikolai: (annoyed) Yes!

Dr. Gloria Nathan: You're HIV-positive.
Napa: What?!
Dr. Gloria Nathan: I'm sorry.
Napa: Doctor, that is not possible. Correct me if I'm wrong, but the only way to get AIDS is by having sex or sharing a needle. Well I ain't done either and I'm not Asian!

Hill: 'Know thyself.' That's what Socrates said, or Aristotle, or one of those dead white men. To know one's self; that may be the hardest thing any of us will ever do.

Hill: Clark Kent is the secret identity of Superman. I don't understand why Superman even needed a secret identity. I mean, if I'm invulnerable, all the chicks want me, why do I spend my time disguised as a four-eyed loser? The truth is: Superman's schizophrenic. His super-id is fucking with his super-ego. The man's conflicted, no doubt about it.
(Napa enters his cell to find Nat in an elegant evening gown)

Hill: I used to box.
O'Reily: Where? In the Special Olympics?

Hill: The good citizens of Gotham City have got to be the dumbest fucks on the planet. They got Batman and Robin running around, saving them from the Joker, the Riddler and such. And at the same time they got Bruce Wayne and his ward Dick Grayson in the headlines every day. Batman and Robin, Bruce and Dick. You're telling me not one person put two and two together?

Hill: The name on the street for the Oswald Maximum Security Penitentiary. Only, big news: They've changed the name. It's now called the Oswald State Correctional Facility, level four. I don't know what the difference is. Leo Glynn is still warden, Sister Peter Marie is still in psych, Tim McManus is still unit manager of Emerald City, and I know for damn sure none of us have changed. Beecher is still in the hospital after Schillinger and Keller broke his bones. Alvarez is still in solitary after blinding a CO. Adebisi, still in the loony ward, after changing hats. Maybe it's truth in advertising. Maybe by getting rid of the word "penitentiary" the state is finally admitting that nobody's penitent. Nobody's sorry. Nobody.

Hill: Truth is a powerful thing. It can right a wrong, or make a bad thing worse. In Oz the truth is, if the facts don't fit the truth, fuck the facts.

Hill:A Bunch of men sit in cells on the brink of a new Year,a new century,a new Millenium.They look into the future and all They can see ahead is themselves sitting in those same cells.Black or white,here We are:On the precipis.We either hang on or We fall off.Together or separately.Its Our choice.Its up to Us.Its up to You and Me
Season Four