David Mills: C'mon, he's insane. Look. Right now he's probably dancing around in his grandma's panties, yeah, rubbing himself in peanut butter.
David Mills: Do you like what you do for a living? These things you see?
Man in Massage Parlour Booth: No, I don't. But that's life.
David Mills: Get out of the FUCKING HALL, police!
David Mills: Has he tried to speak or communicate in any way?
Dr. Beardsley: Even if his brain were not mush, which it is, he chewed off his own tongue long ago.
William Somerset: Uh... Doc, is there absolutely no chance that he might survive?
Dr. Beardsley: Detective, he'd die of shock right now if you were to shine a flashlight in his eyes. He's experienced about as much pain and suffering as anyone I've encountered, give or take... and he still has hell to look forward to. Good night.
David Mills: He's fuckin' with us!
[Mills bends over a desk]
David Mills: See this? This is us.
David Mills: Hold on John, I seem to remember us knocking on your door.
John Doe: Oh, that's right, and I seem to remember breaking your face.
David Mills: Honestly, have you ever seen anything like this?
William Somerset: No.
David Mills: How is it working for a scumbug like this? You proud of yourself?
Police Captain: Ease back, Mills.
Mark Swarr: I'm required by law to serve my clients to the best of my ability, and to serve their best interests.
David Mills: How much money do we have left?
David Mills: I don't think you're quitting because you believe these things you say. I don't. I think you want to believe them, because you're quitting. And you want me to agree with you, and you want me to say, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're right. It's all fucked up. It's a fucking mess. We should all go live in a fucking log cabin." But I won't. I won't say that. I don't agree with you. I do not. I can't.