Trish: Come to bed.
Murtaugh: I can't. There's something I gotta do.

The truck didn't kill her. She was still breathing. I had to put my hand over her mouth. And that my friend is the story of how your wife died. The end.


Hunting the head of a cartel? That's a suicide mission.


You caught a whale, Riggs. Doesn't mean you can keep him.


Ronnie: I'm sorry, Martin. I didn't mean for it to end this way.
Riggs: C'mon, Ronnie. It was supposed to end this way.

Nobody's career's over today.


We've got what we in the forensic sciences call diddly squat.


Trish: What does your gut tell you?
Murtaugh: My gut tells me I need an antacid.

You and I need to be alone in the woods so I can download all this man knowledge.


There are certain things a man must learn before he sets out into the world. One of them being how to survive on his own.


Gideon: A more interesting question would be: what did she like, you know, at the end? Did she die on impact or gurgle her last few breaths?

Life moves in one direction, Martin. You should move with it.