Willow: The more, the … more.
W: Irony’s kind of ironic that way.
Buffy: We were gonna do dumb things like hold hands through the daisies going tra la la.
W: Poor Buffy. Your life resists all things average.
Riley (on Angel): Well there you go. Even when he’s good he’s all Mr. Billowy Coat King of Pain, and girls really …
Dream Xander: I’m a conquistador.
Dream Joyce: You’re sure it isn’t comfort?
DX: I’m a comfortador also.
Dream Giles: A Watcher scoffs at gravity!
Cheese guy: I wear the cheese. It does not wear me.
W: I mean, why else would she be acting like such a B-I-T-C-H?
Giles: Willow, I think we’re all a little too old to be spelling things out.
X: A bitca?
W: On the other hand, maybe Rodney just stepped out for a smoke.
X: For 21 hours?
W: It’s addictive, you know.
G: You have responsibilities that other girls do not –
B: Oh! I know this one! “Slaying entails certain sacrifices, blah blah bitty blah, I’m so stuffy give me a scone.”
G: It’s as if you know me.
B: Have you ever *done* an exchange program?
X: My dad tried to sell me to some Armenians once, does that count?
Drusilla: Do you like daisies? I plant them but they always die. Everything I put in the ground withers and dies.
W: Cordelia. Have some lemonade.
B: She’s a techno-pagan, right. Ask her to bless your laptop.
G: Ms. Callendar –
Jenny: Oh, no, please, call me Jenny. “Ms. Callendar” is my father.
G: Punishing yourself like this is pointless.
B: It’s totally pointy.
G: What are you going to do, crawl inside a cave for the rest of your life?
B: Would it have cable?
Anya: You gotta distract the vampires.
X: What’re you gonna do?
B: I’m gonna kill them all. That oughta distract them.
B: Cordelia, your mouth is open. Sound is coming from it. This is never good.
C: Hello? Can we deal with my pain?
G (with a hearty pat to her shoulder): There there.
W: Love makes you do the wacky.
G (to chair): W-w-what I’m proposing is, em, and I don’t mean to appear indecorous, is, is, um, a – a social engagement. A – a date, if you’re amenable.
B: You might want to aviod words like “amenable” and “indecorous”. Speak English, not whatever they speak in –
B: Yeah. You just say, “Hey, I got a thing. You maybe have a thing. May be we could have a thing?”
G: Oh, thank you, Cyrano.
B: I’m not finished. Then you say, “How d’you feel about Mexican?”
G: About Mexicans?
B: Mexican. Food. You take her for food for which you then pay.
G (regarding computer): This thing
B: Where’s the other one?
X: Scampered like a big bumpy bunny.
B: Get out of that body with your hands up!
A world without shrimp:
Anya: “You could have, like, a world with no shrimp. Or with, you know, nothing but shrimp”.
Riley (of Buffy): There’s definitely something a little off about her.
(?): Maybe she’s Canadian.
Spike (trapped in a featureless white cubicle among many featureless white cubicles, and wanting to know who’s responsible): Government? Nazis? Major cosmetic company?
X: I put the simper in simper fi.
W: I’ve seen honest faces before. They usually come attached to liars.
(At a party, a Dingos Ate My Baby song begins to play. Willow reacts.)
(Willow nods. Wolf… )
W to G: I happen to think mine is the level head and yours is the one things would roll off of.
B: Sarcasm accomplishes nothing, Giles.
G: It’s sort of an end to itself.
S: Spike had a little trip to the vet, and now he doesn’t chase the other puppies anymore.
S: I came, I saw, I felt really bad about it. (what Caesar did not say)
B: And they say romance is dead. Or maybe they just wish it.
Riley: A lotta young people these days are experimenting with shortness. You gotta nip that in the bud.
That was the plan? Walkin’ quick was the plan?!
Dear God, that’s nummy.
Spike: Well, it’s all relative, isn’t it?
Spike: Meaning I have come to redefine the words ‘pain and suffering’ since I fell in love with you.
The soul isn’t all moonbeams and pennywhistles …
Xander: Cordelia, man, she does love titles!
Willow: Oh, God! Remember in sixth grade with the field trip?
Xander: Right! Right! The guy with the antlers on his belt!
Willow: “Be my deputy!”
Xander: And remember the, the hat?
Willow: Oh God! The hat!
Buffy: Gee, it’s fun that we’re speaking in tongues.
My name’s Angel. I was born 244 years ago in Ireland. Small town, good family. Twenty seven years into an unremarkable life, I met a woman. She told me she could show me a world I’d never seen. … She wasn’t kidding.
Rachel: I can’t believe you actually showed up.
Angel: Well, that was the deal, right?
(Spike is watching from a rooftop, unseen, providing dialogue for the exchange)
Spike (high-pitched): How can I thank you, you mysterious, black-clad hunk of a night thing?
(deep-voiced) No need, little lady. Your tears of gratitude are enough for me. You see, I was once a bad-ass vampire, but love and a pesky curse defanged me. And now I’m just a big fluffy puppy with bad teeth. (Down in the alley, Rachel reaches for Angel, who shifts away) No – not the hair. Never the hair.
(high and breathy) But there must be some way I can show my appreciation.
(deep) No! Helping those in need’s my job. And workin’ up a load of sexual tension and prancing away like a magnificent poof is truly thanks enough.
(high) I understand. I have a nephew who’s gay, so –
(deep) Say no more! Evil’s still afoot. And I’m almost out of that nancy-boy hair gel I like so much. Quickly! To the Angel-mobile! Away!
(himself) Go on with you. Play the big strapping hero while you can. You have a few surprises coming your way. The Ring of Amarra, a visit from your old pal Spike … and oh, yeah – your gruesome, horrible death …
Doyle: The only money in my family is underneat’ the couch cushions.
Cordelia: I think it, I say it. It’s my way.
You have so much to learn, little Irish man.
Oh, they’ll be into this for a while – we still have time for a cappucino – and probably the director’s cut of Titanic.
I was really jonesing for another hearbreaking sewer talk.
A: Chocolate! I love chocolate! Egh – But not as it turns out yoghurt.
A: The Gateway for Lost Souls is under the Post Office?
D: Makes sense if y’think about it.
C: Oh please. They’ve got the forbidden love of all time. They’ve been apart for months. Now he’s suddenly human again. I’m sure they’re down there having tea and crackers.
D: I’m finally free to out and make me own mark on the world.
C: We had a cat that used to do that.
You’re deeply ambivalent.
I am and I’m not.
All those alchemists on the board of directors and they still make us fly coach.
Spike: Son! Of! A! Bitch!! I do the work – I do the digging – fight off a Slayer – drive to L.A. – hire the help – and what do I get?? Royally screwed, is what! Well, that cinches it. No more partners. From now on, I’m my own man. Lone wolf. Sole survivor. Look out! Here comes Spike: the biggest, baddest, mother – (whose hair is set on fire by a beam of sunlight coming through a bullet hole in the roof…)
Gunn: The final score can’t be rigged. I don’t care how many players you grease, that last shot always comes up a question mark. But here’s the thing: you never know when you’re taking it. It could be dukin’ it out with the Legion of Doom, or just crossing the street deciding where to have brunch. So you just treat it all like it was up to you. The world in balance. ‘Cause you mever know when it is.
Fred: You been practicing that?
G: A little bit.
Lorne: I’m as tickled as … someone so tickled they’re out of similes.
You can look at your reflection in grandma’s glass eye…
Lorne: I’d give my left horn not to do this.
Lorne’s mother: Your father was right. We ate the wrong son. … Your brother Numfar did the dance of joy for three moons.
Cordy: Starting to bore the princess…
Angel: I chopped off the evil lawyer-beast’s hand, and he screamed and he screamed … and then I left.
(Hans Christian Tarentino)
A: Stop! In the name of love
Before you break my heart
Think it oh-oh-shit – –
Mal: We have done the impossible, and that makes us mighty.
Bendis: We’re gonna die.
Mal: We are not gonna die. You know why? Because we are so… very… pretty. We are just too pretty for God to let us die. Huh? Look at that chiseled jaw!
Wash (as Stegosaurus): Yes… yes. This is a fertile land, and we will thrive. We will rule over all this land, and we will call it… This Land.
Wash (as Allosaurus): I think we should call it… your grave!
Wash (as Stegosaurus): Ah! Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!
Wash (as Allosaurus): Ha ha ha! Mine is an evil laugh! Now DIE!
Wash (as Stegosaurus): Oh no, God, oh dear God in heaven…
Zoe: I know something ain’t right.
Wash: Sweetie, we’re crooks. If everything were right, we’d be in jail.
Zoe: Sir, we don’t want to deal with Patience again.
Mal: Why not?
Zoe: She shot you.
Mal: Well, yeah, she did a bit.
Mal: Did you send word to Patience?
Wash: Yeah, ain’t heard back yet. Didn’t she shoot you one time?
Mal: Everyone’s makin’ a fuss!
(Shepherd Book is checking the port for a ship, and meets Kaylee sitting on a lawn chair outside Serenity)
Kaylee: You’re gonna come with us.
Book: Excuse me?
Kaylee: You like ships. You don’t seem to be lookin’ at the destinations. What you care about is the ships, and mine’s the nicest.
Book: She don’t look like much.
Kaylee: Oh, she’ll fool ya.
(The crew waits quietly as a Reaver ship passes.)
Simon: What happens if they board us?
Zoe: If they take the ship, they’ll rape us to death, eat our flesh, and sew our skins into their clothing. And if we’re very, very lucky, they’ll do it in that order.
Mal: Now, you’ve only got to scare him.
Jayne: Pain is scary.
Simon: I’m trying to put this as delicately as I can…how do I know you won’t kill me in my sleep?
Mal: You don’t know me, son, so let me put this to you plainly: If I ever kill you, you’ll be awake. You’ll be facing me. And you’ll be armed.
Simon: Are you always this sentimental?
Mal: I had a good day.
Simon: You had the Alliance on you, criminals and savages… half the people on the ship have been shot or wounded including yourself, and you’re harboring known fugitives.
Mal: We’re still flying.
Simon: That’s not much.
Mal: It’s enough.
The Train Job
Lund: You know, your coat is kinda a brownish color…
Mal: It was on sale. (calmly sips drink)
Lund: You didn’t toast. You know, I’m thinkin’ you one of ’em In’e’pen’ents.
Mal: And I’m thinkin’ you weren’t burdened with an overabundance of schooling. So why don’t we just ignore each other until we go away?
Lund: The In’e’pen’ents were a bunch of inbred, cowardly piss-pots. Should’ve been killed off of every world spinnin’.
Mal: (turns) Say that to my face.
Lund: I said you’re a coward and a piss-pot. Now what are you gonna do about it?
Mal: (smiles) Nothing. I just wanted you to face me so she could get behind you.
(Lund turns, and Zoe knocks him out with the butt of her rifle)
Mal: Drunks are so cute.
Inara: What did I say to you about barging into my shuttle?
Mal: That it was manly and impulsive?
Inara: Yes, precisely. Only the exact phrase I used was, “Don’t.”
Mal: Well, you’re holding my mechanic in thrall. And Kaylee! What the hell is goin’ on in the engine room? Were there monkeys? Some terrifying space monkeys maybe got loose?
Zoe: Sir, I think you have a problem with your brain being missing.
Jayne: You know what the chain of command is? It’s the chain I go get and beat you with ’til you understand who’s in ruttin’ command here! Now we’re finishing this deal, and then maybe, maybe we’ll come back for those morons… got themselves caught… and you can’t change that by getting all… bendy.
Wash: All what?
Jayne: You got the light… from the console to keep you… lifting you up… they shine like… (starts grabbing at the air) little angels…
(Jayne falls flat on the floor)
Wash: Did he just go crazy and fall asleep?
Simon: I told him to sit down.
(Jayne, still sprawled on the staircase, shoots Crow in the lower leg before he can stab Mal)
Mal: Nice shot.
Jayne: (slurred) I was aimin’ for his head.
Harken: You fought with Captain Reynolds in the war?
Zoe: Fought with a lot of people in the war.
Harken: And your husband?
Zoe: Fight with him sometimes, too.
Harken: Is there any particular reason you don’t wish to discuss your marriage?
Zoe: Don’t see that it’s any of your business, is all. We’re very private people.
(Cut to Wash.)
Wash: The legs! (laughs) Oh yeah, definitely have to say it was her legs. You can put that down. Her legs, and right where her legs… meet her back. Tha— actually, that whole area. That, and… and above it. (…) Have you seen what she wears? Forget about it. Have you ever been with a warrior woman?
Zoe: Planet’s coming up a mite fast.
Wash: That’s just ’cause— I’m going down too quick. Likely crash and kill us all.
(As the ship begins to shake, Mal calmly leaves.)
Mal: Well, that happens, let me know.
Badger: Course you couldn’t buy an invite with a diamond the size of a testicle, but I’ve got my hands on a couple.
(Mal and Jayne grin)
Badger: Of invites!
Badger: You think you’re better than other people!
Mal: Just the ones I’m better than.
Badger: Who’s that, then? Here, look at me. What’s your story, love?
Simon: She’s just a… just a passenger.
Badger: Yeah? Why ain’t she talkin’? Got a secret?
Simon: No, I’m—
River: (suddenly speaking in Badger’s own Cockney accent) Sure. I got a secret. More’n one. Don’t seem like I’d tell ’em to you, now, do it? Anyone off Dyton colony knows better’n to talk to strangers. (pokes Badger in the chest) You’re talkin’ loud enough for the both of us, ain’t ya? I’ve met a dozen like you. Skipped off home early. Minor grift jobs here and there. Spent some time in the lockdown, but less than you claim. And you’re what? A petty thief with delusions o’ standing? Sad little king of a sad little hill.
Badger: Nice to see someone from the old homestead.
River: Not really. (to Simon) Call me if anyone interesting shows up. (Leaves)
Badger: (grinning) I like her.
Sir Warrick: You have to finish it, lad. (Mal doesn’t move) You have to finish it. For a man to lay beaten, yet breathing? It makes him a coward.
Inara: It’s humiliation.
Mal: It would be humiliating, having to lie there while the better man refuses to spill your blood. Mercy is the mark of a great man. (He jabs Atherton) Guess I’m just a good man. (He pokes again): Well, I’m all right.
Mal: So, she’s added cussing and hurling-about of things to her repertoire. She really is a prodigy.
Simon: It’s just a bad day.
Mal: No, a “bad day” is when someone’s yellin’ spooks the cattle. Understand? You ever see cattle stampede when they got no place to run? It’s kind of like a… a meat grinder. And it’ll lose us half the herd.
Simon: She hasn’t gone anywhere near the cattle.
Mal: No, but in case you hadn’t noticed, her voice kinda carries. We’re two miles above ground and they can probably hear her down there. Soon as we unload, she can holler until our ears bleed—although I would take it as a kindness if she didn’t.
River: The human body can be drained of blood in 8.6 seconds given adequate vacuuming systems.
Mal: See, morbid and creepifying, I got no problem with, long as she does it quiet-like.
Zoe: Next time we smuggle stock, let’s make it something smaller.
Wash: Yeah, we should start dealing in those black-market beagles.
River: They weren’t cows inside. They were waiting to be, but they forgot. Now they see sky, and they remember what they are.
Mal: Is it bad that what she said made perfect sense to me?
Mal: This is the last time. Last time with cows. Hey, there was an idea regarding beagles? They have smallish droppings?
Zoe: I believe so, sir.
River: We’re lost. Lost in the woods.
(Jayne, in the process of ransacking Simon’s belongings, pretends to read Simon’s journal.)
Jayne: “Dear Diary: Today I was pompous and my sister was crazy. (flips page) Today we were kidnapped by hill folk, never to be seen again. It was the best day ever.”
Zoe: You sanguine about the kind of reception we’re apt to receive on an Alliance ship, Cap’n?
Mal: Absolutely. (pause) What’s “sanguine” mean?
Zoe: “Sanguine”. Hopeful. Plus, point of interest: it also means “bloody”.
Mal: Well, that pretty much covers all the options, don’t it?
Jayne: This place gives me an uncomfortableness.
Mal: Well, look at this! Appears we got here just in the nick of time. What does that make us?
Zoe: Big damn heroes, sir.
Mal: Ain’t we just?
Mal: Cut her down!
Patron: The girl is a witch.
Mal: Yeah, but she’s our witch. (cocks gun) So cut her the hell down.
Simon: So, finally a decent wound on this ship, and I miss out. I’m sorry.
Mal: Well, you were busy trying to get yourself lit on fire. It happens.
Simon: Captain, why did you come back for us?
Mal: You’re on my crew.
Simon: Yeah, but you don’t even like me. Why’d you come back?
Mal: You’re on my crew. Why’re we still talking about this?
Our Mrs. Reynolds
Bandit: You gonna give us what’s due us. And every damn thing else on that boat. And I think maybe you gonna give me a little one-on-one time with the missus.
Jayne: Oh, I think you might wanna reconsider that last part. See, I married me a powerful ugly creature.
Mal: How can you say that? How can you shame me in front of new people?
Jayne: If I could make you prettier I would!
Mal: You are not the man I met a year ago!
Mal: Now think real hard. You been bird-doggin’ this township awhile now. They wouldn’t mind a corpse of you. Now, you can luxuriate in a nice jail cell, but if your hand touches metal, I swear by my pretty floral bonnet, I will end you.
Book: If you take sexual advantage of her, you’re going to burn in a very special level of Hell. A level they reserve for child molesters and people who talk at the theater.
Book: (walking away, pauses and looks at Mal) …the… special… hell.
Wash: Every planet has its own weird customs. About a year before we met, I spent six weeks on a moon where the principal form of recreation was juggling geese. My hand to God. Baby geese. Goslings. They were juggled.
(Jayne menacingly approaches Mal with a huge weapon.)
Jayne: Six men came to kill me one time. The best of ’em carried this. It’s a Callahan full-bore auto-lock. Customized trigger. Double cartridge thorough gauge. It is my very favorite gun.
(He hands it to Mal.)
Mal: Da-shiong bao-jah-shr duh la doo-tze… Are you offering me a trade?
Jayne: A trade? Hell, that’s theft! This is the best damn gun made by man. It has extreme sentimental value. It’s miles more worthy’n what you got.
Mal: What I got? She has a name!
Jayne: So does this! (caresses the gun lovingly) I call it Vera.
Mal: Well, my days of not taking you seriously are certainly comin’ to a middle.
- Happy Birthday, Buffy! (cnn.com)