Beadie: All the guys at the bar, Jimmy, all the girls; they don't show up at your wake. Not because they don't like you. But because, they never knew your last name. Then a month later, someone tells them, "Oh, Jimmy died." "Jimmy who?" "Jimmy the Cop." "Ohhh," they say, "him". And all the people on the job, all those people you spent all the hours in the radio cars with, the guys with their feet up on the desk, tellin' stories, who shorted you on your food runs, who signed your overtime slips. In the end, they're not gonna be there either. Family, that's it. Family, and if you're lucky, one or two friends who are the same as family. That's all the best of us get. Everything else is just...

Bubbles: Ain't no shame in holdin' on to grief, as long as you make room for other things too.

Bunk: He's tellin' it like a bitch. We even went to Mickey D's for him because he was so motherfuckin' helpful. Two quarterpounders. Big fries. MacDonaldland cookies. Dr. Pepper... That's how your boy roll, right?

Bunk: I'm a murder police. I work murders. I don't fuck with no make-believe. I don't jerk shit around. I catch a murder, and I work it.

Bunk: The bigger the lie, the more they believe.

Bunk: You called the reporter huh?
McNulty: No, actually. That asshole's making up his own shit. Brass called a press conference for this afternoon. They'll be shovellin' so much money at my bullshit it'll make your head spin.

Bunk: You're going to jail behind this shit. Yes, you are. You know what they do to police in jail? Pretty police like yourself? Motherfucker, we have kids. Houses. Car payments. Furniture--Jimmy, I just bought brand new lawn chairs and a glass patio table. Now you don't buy no shit like that if you planning to lose your job and go to prison. You won't even get past the ME.
McNulty: Watch me.
Bunk: You're dumpin' murders on us that we can't solve, you're fucking the squad's clearance rate.
McNulty: Fuck the fucking numbers already! The fucking numbers destroyed this fucking department. Landsman and his clearance rate can suck a hairy asshole.
Bunk: Marlo ain't worth it, man. Nobody is.
McNulty: Marlo's an asshole. He does not get to win. WE get to win!

Bunk: You've lost your fucking mind, Jimmy. Look at you. Half-lit every third night, dead drunk every second. Nut deep in random pussy. What little time you are sober and limp-dicked, you're working murders that don't even exist!

Burrell: You might think it'll be different... when you sit here... but it won't. You will eat their shit. Daniels, too, when he gets here.

Butchie: Ain't no other way. I can see that.

Carcetti: You know, I always wanted to say how sorry I am about how things turned out. There wasn't anything I could have done with your experiment in the Western District, there wasn't anything that anyone could have done with that.
Colvin: Yeah, well, I guess, Mr. Mayor, there's nothing to be done.

Chris Partlow: Omar tried calling you out by name, but shit, no one --
Marlo Stanfield: What he say about me?
Chris Partlow: Nothing, man. Just talking shit.
Marlo Stanfield: He used my name? In the street?
[Pause]
Marlo Stanfield: Talk, motherfucker!
Monk: He just, you know, say that you need to step to and that . . . I don't know. He just running his mouth some.
Marlo Stanfield: He call me a punk?
Chris Partlow: It was bullshit, man. You ain't need that on your mind.
Marlo Stanfield: What the fuck you know about what I need on my mind, motherfucker? My name was on the street? When we bounce from this shit here, y'all going to go down on them corners and let the people know: Word did not get back to me. Let them know Marlo step to any motherfucker -- Omar, Barksdale, whoever. My name is my name!

Chris: Y'all gonna pop out and pop off. Drop who you can.
O-Dog: Yo, let's go all west coast with this.
Snoop: [laughing] Say what?
O-Dog: Drive-by. That's how they do. Drop a motherfucker and not slow down. Like Boyz n the Hood. Shit was tight, remember?

Cutty: I guess what I'm tryin' to say is... not everything comes down to how you carry it in the street. I mean, it do come down to that if you gonna be in the street. But that ain't the only way to be.
Dukie: Round here it is.
Cutty: Yeah. Round here it is. World is bigger than that, at least, that's what they tell me.
Dukie: Like... how do you get from here to the rest of the world?
Cutty: I wish I knew.

Daniels: I'll swallow a lie when I have to; I've swallowed a few big ones lately. But the stat games? That lie? It's what ruined this department. Shining up shit and calling it gold so majors become colonels and mayors become governors. Pretending to do policework while one generation fucking trains the next how not to do the job. And then-[catches himself, and sighs] I looked Carcetti in the eye, I shook his hand, I asked him if he was for real. Well, this is the lie I can't live with.