Simon: When I say.
Etta: Really? I was going to go before.

Broyles: Widmark. What did you do up there in the future to get yourself such a crap detail?
Widmark: I like animals.

I'll be a toe on a foot in a grave.


Some people swear by hair of the dog, but I prefer nature's sponge, the egg.


Walter: Apparently this universe has not discovered memory foam.
Fauxlivia: You know, Walter, you can stay at my place tonight. I have a spare room.
Walter: Wonderful. And I shall refrain from sleeping naked.
Fauxlivia: Good to know.

Domesticated badgers? Really? As pets?


You couldn't bring over a casserole, but a severed hand is OK?


On purpose? Anything's possible. Even Santa Claus.


Ah! My escort is here. And by escort, I mean prostitute.

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