McMurphy: Which one of you nuts has got any guts?

McMurphy: In one week, I can put a bug so far up her ass, she don't know whether to shit or wind her wristwatch.

McMurphy: She was fifteen years old, going on thirty-five, Doc, and she told me she was eighteen, she was very willing, I practically had to take to sewing my pants shut. Between you and me, uh, she might have been fifteen, but when you get that little red beaver right up there in front of you, I don't think it's crazy at all and I don't think you do either. No man alive could resist that, and that's why I got into jail to begin with. And now they're telling me I'm crazy over here because I don't sit there like a goddamn vegetable. Don't make a bit of sense to me. If that's what's being crazy is, then I'm senseless, out of it, gone-down-the-road, wacko. But no more, no less, that's it.

(The inmates are playing cards and betting with cigarettes.)
Martini: (rips a cigarette in half) I bet a nickel.
McMurphy: Dime's the limit, Martini.
Martini: I bet a dime.
(Puts the two halves onto the table.)
McMurphy: This is not a dime, Martini. This is a dime. (shows a whole cigarette) If you break it in half, you don't get two nickels, you get shit. Try and smoke it. You understand?
Martini: Yes.
McMurphy: You don't understand.

McMurphy: What do you think you are, for Chrissake, crazy or somethin'? Well you're not! You're not! You're no crazier than the average asshole out walkin' around on the streets and that's it.

Chief: My pop was real big. He did like he pleased. That's why everybody worked on him. The last time I seen my father, he was blind and diseased from drinking. And every time he put the bottle to his mouth, he don't suck out of it, it sucks out of him until he shrunk so wrinkled and yellow even the dogs didn't know him.
McMurphy: Killed him, huh?
Chief: I'm not saying they killed him. They just worked on him. The way they're working on you.

McMurphy: I must be crazy to be in a loony bin like this.

McMurphy to Billy: What are you doin' here? You oughta be out in a convertible bird-doggin' chicks and bangin' beaver.

Nurse Ratched: Aren't you ashamed?
Billy: No, I'm not.
(Applause from friends.)
Nurse Ratched: You know Billy, what worries me is how your mother is going to take this.
Billy: Um, um, well, y-y-y-you d-d-d-don't have to t-t-t-tell her, Miss Ratched.
Nurse Ratched: I don't have to tell her? Your mother and I are old friends. You know that.
Billy: P-p-p-please d-d-don't tell my m-m-m-mother.