Buffy: I didn’t jump to conclusions. I took a small step, and conclusions there were.
Oz: Guys. Take a moment to deal with all this. We survived.
Buffy: It was a hell of a battle.
Oz: Not the battle. High school.
Giles: Smell is the most powerful trigger to the memory there is. A certain flower or a whiff of smoke can bring up experiences long forgotten. Books smell musty and rich. The knowledge gained from a computer is…it has no texture, no context. It’s there and then it’s gone. If it’s to last, then the getting of knowledge should be tangible. It should be, um, smelly.
Druscilla: My mummy used to sing to me to sleep…I wonder what your mummy will sing when they find your body?
Xander: That’s okay, I don’t wanna go. I’m just gonna go home, lie down and listen to country music…the music of pain.
Giles: Yes, always behind on terms. I’m still trying not to refer to you lot as ‘bloody colonials.’
Spike: This is the crack team that foils my every plan? I am deeply shamed.
Xander: We’re right behind you, only further back.
The Mayor (after Giles stabs him): Whoa! Well, now, that was a little thoughtless. Violent outbursts like that in front of the children. You know Mr. Giles, they look to you to see how to behave.
Xander: I have my pride. Okay, I don’t have a lot of my pride, but I have enough so that I can’t do this.
Xander: I am the bug man, kew, kew, katchoo.
Principal Snyder: A lot of educators tell students, ‘Think of your principal as your pal.’ I say think of me as your judge, jury and executioner.
Spike: Passions is on! Timmy’s down the bloody well, and if you make me miss it I’ll…
Giles: You’ll do what? Lick me to death?
Buffy: Spike, these are my friends. Besides, it’s kind of my job.
Spike: For now.
Buffy: What, you want me to stop working?
Spike: Let’s see. Do I want you to give up killing my friends? Yeah, I’ve given it some thought.
Xander: Well, not much goes on in a one-Starbucks town like Sunnydale.
Cordelia: So does looking at guns make you wanna have sex?
Xander: I’m 17. Looking at linoleum makes me wanna have sex.
Angel: Are you mad at me for being around too much or for not being around enough?
Buffy: Duh, yes!
Principal Snyder: I know Principal Flutie would have said, ‘Kids need understanding. Kids are human beings.’ That’s the kind of wooly-headed liberal thinking that leads to being eaten.
Spike: I like people. They’re like Happy Meals with legs.
Willow (looking at Xander’s fake ID): I don’t believe this is entirely on the up and up.
Xander: What gives it away?
Willow: Looking at it.
Anya: You don’t need me. All you care about is lots of orgasms.
Xander: Okay, remember how we talked about private conversations? How they’re less private when they’re in front of my friends?
Spike: Oh, we’re not your friends; go on.
Spike: Sometimes I like to crumble the Weetabix in the blood. Gives it a little texture.
Giles: Since the picture you just painted means that I will never touch food of any kind again, you’ll just have to pick it up yourself.
Faith: You can’t trust guys.
Buffy: You can trust some guys. Really, I’ve read about them.
Xander: Well, ’cause you never know if a girl’s gonna say yes or if she’s gonna laugh in your face and pull out your still-beating heart and crush it into the ground with her heel.
Anya: Look, I know you find me attractive; I’ve seen you looking at my breasts.
Xander: Nothing personal, but when a guy does that, it just means his eyes are open.