See, your exploits, no matter how inane are well documented in heaven. Probably hell too.
— You knew Christ?
— Knew him? Shit, nigga owes me 12 bucks.
No wonder he saw Jesus. Homey's rocking the ganj.
You should know better than anyone here that tits don't make a woman. <...> What traditionally defines a woman falls between two things: Her legs.
Had we been given free will, we could choose to ignore the pain, like they do. But no! We're servants!
— Were they sent to Hell?
— Worse. Wisconsin.
Tone down your behavior. Stay off their respective radars.
Oh, now what was that all about?
You people. If there isn't a movie about it, it's not worth knowing, is it?
— Let me get this straight. You don't believe in God because of Alice in Wonderland?
— No, Through the Looking Glass. That poem, "The Walrus and the Carpenter" is an indictment of organized religion.
It doesn't matter what you have faith in, Just that you have faith.
I am a seraphim. The highest choir of angels.
So you were an artist — big deal. Elvis was an artist, but that didn't stop him from joining the service in time of war. That's why he's the King... and you're a schmuck.
Snootch to the motherfucking nootch! Go back to your paper routes, you Mighty Duck Fucks!
— Let's say we're caught in a situation where we have five minutes left to live. A bomb or something's gonna go off. Would you fuck us then?
— In that highly unlikely situation? Yeah, sure.
— Yeah? She's a slut.
— Hey. What's he like?
— God? Lonely... but funny. He's got a great sense of humor. Sex, for example. There's nothing funnier than the ridiculous faces you people make mid-coitus.
— Sex is a joke in heaven?
— The way I understand it, it's mostly a joke down here too.
