Lindsey: What are you doing here?
Angel: Gee, I don't know, saving your life.
Lindsey: I don't need you to save my life.
Angel: Gee, a little gratitude, Lindsey, goes a long way.
Lindsey: You got no business. Why? Why aren't you trying to kill me?
Angel: Excuse me, I'm on a case here, Lindsey. Does everything have to be about killing you all the time?
Parole Officer: I can see that you guys got issues. I'll just- [Angel chokes him]
Lindsey: That is my lead. You are choking my lead.
Angel: He's my lead, he's my lead. What are we, in the schoolyard here? Look, if you want to get to the bottom of this, you gotta learn how to play with others. [to P.O.] Okay look, I'm gonna loosen the rope and you're gonna tell me all about your parolee Bradley Scott.
Lindsey: Who?
Angel: The guy whose hand you're wearing. You might want to listen up.
Lindsey: You don't tell me what to do.
Angel: He's so immature.
Lindsey: Shut up!
Angel: [to P.O.] We're waiting.
Parole Officer: I'm not telling you zip. You can kill me but Wolfram and Hart will do a lot worse.
Angel: Kill you? Why would I kill you...[morphs into vamp-face]...when I could live off you for a month?
[The guy looks back at Angel and yells as he sees his changed face; Angel pats his face as Lindsey grimaces]
Angel: Hmm, can't you just taste that butter fat? [Grins at Lindsey]
Lindsey: You are really gross, you know that?

Lindsey: Yes, she's dying. Yes, those medical reports you saw are real. You want a second opinion? [Picks up some files and throws them at Angel] Here. How about a third? Hmm? How about a tenth? I used every connection Wolfram and Hart had. [Points at the file Angel is looking at.] That's my own personal doctor. They all say the same thing: syphilitic heart condition - terminal. [Refills his glass] Looks like our Darla was a working girl in the New World. Syphilis was what she was dying from when she was human. Now she's human again. Kind of picking up where she left off. Of course, today something like that could be cleared up with a few antibiotics if you catch it in time. We're about a month and what? 400 years too late?

Lindsey: You can call me Doyle.

Linwood: Thank you for coming. And correct me if I'm wrong, but the role of a psychic is to be psychic. To predict the future, so that Wolfram and Hart doesn't find itself in this kind of predicament.
Bald psychic: I can't apologize enough, sir.
Linwood: You're right. You can't. [Laughs] But I'm not without compassion. I'm gonna give you a chance to save your job - and your skin.
[Bald psychic smiles relieved, then frowns and leans in a bit closer to Linwood.]
Bald psychic: No, you're not. You're gonna have me killed.
Linwood: [Puts a hand on his shoulder.] Now, why couldn't you have had that kind of foresight when we needed it?
[Someone puts a plastic bag over the bald guy's head from behind and pulls him away from Linwood.]

Lorne : It's like a song, now I can hold a note for a long time, actually I can hold a note forever. But eventually that's just noise. It's the change we're listening for. The note coming after and the one after that, that's what makes it music.

Lorne: (singing) Go to sleep, lullaby, you've been fed and you're sleepy. You'll be with uncle Lorne, who in no way resents not being asked to go to the ballet. And is certainly, not thinking, of selling you to the first vampire cult that makes him a decent offer...

Lorne: [asking Eve] This thing coming after you. How bad on a scale of, say, one to Terminator?
Eve: [about Hamilton] Oh, god. He's here.
Harmony: That's the guy? He's just a suit.
Guard: Hey, you, stop! Put your hands up!
[Hamilton punches the guard through the stomach so hard that his hand comes out the back, covered in blood.]
Eve, Harmony, and Lorne: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Lorne: Back in Pylea, they used to call me 'sweet potato'.
Connor: Really?
Lorne: Yeah, well, the exact translation was 'fragrant tuber', but...

Lorne: Has Cordy been a bad, bad girl? (looks into the Magic 8-Ball for the answer)
Magic 8-Ball: Definitely.

Lorne: Hey, professional opinion. Sexy soccer mama or brainy beauty? You're an aging sexpot celebrating a decade of turning twenty-nine. You got two little rugrats who aren't that little, a husband who thinks the extras trailer's a buffet table and gravity ain't doing you any favors. So "Happy Birthday, sexy mama" or ...Fred! Fred, sweetie, you're sort of like a woman.
Fred: That's not a compliment.
Lorne: Well, more so than El Cid here. I need some insight. You're an aging...
Fred: I heard. Don't mention her birthday, don't send a card, send a big bunch of flowers just because she's special and pefect and eternally bladi bla.
Lorne: Staring me right in the face. Genius
Fred: And I'm a lot like a woman.
Lorne: You're all woman. You're every woman. You're Wonder Woman!
Fred: Damn straight.

Lorne: Holy tornado, it's true!
Spike: Yeah, it was amazing! Angel went right off on the mail guy.
Lorne: Oh this must've been one major smackdown!
Angel: There was no smacking!
Lorne: That's not the hubbub I'm hearing, honey buns. Word on the web has you sucker punching Grandpa Moses.
Angel: The web?
Lorne: Don't sweat it, sweetie pie. I've got my flack-catcher spinnin' this into PR gold. And once the word spreads that you beat up an innocent old man, the truly terrible will think twice before goin' toe to toe with our Avenging Angel.
Spike: Yes. The geriatric community will be soilin' their nappies when they hear you're on the case. Bravo!

Lorne: How you holding up?
Angel: Oh, I want to go bad. I'm just waiting for Wes to have that Eureka moment.
Wesley: (from the other room) EUREKA!
Angel: Jeez. Oh, thank god.
Lorne: You mean he actually really says Eureka?

Lorne: I hate to be a the little demon that cried "Apocalypse Nowish"...

Lorne: Just remember, keep your head down. Xenophobia, kind of a watchword where I'm from.
Gunn: I don't get it. Why are they afraid of Xena? I mean, I think she's kinda fly.
Wesley: Xenophobia. Fear of foreigners.
Gunn: Oh. Can we forget I just said that?

Lorne: Maybe it's some kind of puppet... cancer?
Puppet Angel: [teeth gritted] I do not have puppet cancer!