Archer: I have to go. But if I find one single dog hair when I get back, I'll rub...sand...in your dead little eyes.
Woodhouse: Very good, sir.
Archer: [pause] I also need you to buy sand.
Woodhouse: Yes, sir.
Archer: I don't know if they grade it, but... coarse.

Krenshaw: Jesus, Archer. Do you think this is a game?
Archer: No, I think Jenga's a game, and...
Krenshaw: What if I'd been real KGB?
Archer: I assume you would be trying to suck a promotion out of some Russian guy's cock.
Krenshaw: Well, maybe I never get promoted...
Archer: ...and never will...
Krenshaw: ...because my mommy's not the boss!
Archer: And maybe you just got your face kicked off! [Archer puts his foot in Krenshaw's face] That is my foot in your face. Smell the embarrassme-- [Krenshaw shocks Archer's foot with a golf cart battery]

Mallory: ISIS isn't your own personal travel agency. It doesn't exist just so you can jet off to... Whore Island!
Archer: That's not... a real place.
Mallory: I have fifty agents who would literally kill to move up to your position. And if you don't square up your operations account by Monday, they won't need to. Your position will be vacant! Sterling!
Archer: Sorry, I was picturing Whore Island.
Mallory: Have I made myself clear?!
Archer: You're looking for the answer "yes"?
Mallory: Yes.
Archer: Then yes.

Archer: There's my favorite section head!
Pam: I am dealing with the breakroom problem!
Archer: Oh, good, you caught the, uh, oh wait, I had something good for this... the... "Pita Predator".
Pam: You know what?
Archer: ...Sorry, let's just call it what it is: food rapist.
Pam: Not a pretty name, is it?

Archer: [to Pam] I'll throw these doughnuts on the ground so you can pretend they're marbles and you're a hungry hungry... [Pam abruptly shuts the door on Archer] ...hungry hippo.

Archer: What are you doing?
Cyril: Oh. Just dicing veggies for dinner. I always make Lana stirfry for dinner on Friday.
Archer: Neat. Listen...
Cyril: [very excitedly] Guess what we call it!
Archer: "Stir Friday?"
Cryil: [long pause] Wow. That's actually better.
Archer: It's all yours. So come let me in the mainframe.
[Later]
Archer: And after I gave you "Stir Friday!"
Cyril: Yeah, that is much better.
Archer: I know.

Archer: So, obviously, it would be a lot easier for me if you just disabled all that when you left work tonight... somehow.
Cheryl: Ooh, that would make me... uncomfortable.
Archer: Ugh, God, everything makes you uncomfortable!
[Archer and Cheryl are naked and on the floor of his apartment]
Archer: Just the tip?
[Archer is behind Cheryl now, who is on all fours]
Archer: Just the tip?
[Archer is waving an ice cream cone in front of Cheryl]
Archer: Just the tip!
[in the present]
Archer: How was I supposed to know you're lactose intolerant?
Cheryl: Because I kept screaming it!
[Later]
Cheryl: Are... are you gonna pay for your lunch?
Archer: Just the tip. [Pause] Actually, I don't have any cash on me. Could you... get it? I also need cab fare. Awww, Ugly Duckling. Quack Quack.

Archer: Well, thanks for nothing, Carol. Now I need to break into ISIS headquarters in a $900 turtleneck. And if it gets ruined I'll make you drink heavy cream, you... Carol!
[Archer zip-lines across to the roof of ISIS]
Archer: Wow, that was actually pretty easy! Thanks, new turtleneck! [rips his turtleneck] Aw, f-- And thank you, duffle bag!

Archer: Holy shit, our security is atrocious. Seriously, it's really bad.
[He sits at the computer, which prompts him for a password]
Archer: Password. Hmm, password? How about "Guest".
[He types in "Guest" and it works]
Archer: No way. It can't be. Jesus Christ, that is just... babytown frolics.

Archer: Whoa, I would not push her. That is a big gun and she is baby crazy.
Lana: "Baby crazy"?!
Archer: That's why I broke up with her.
Lana: You lying--! You sack of shit! I broke up with you because you're carrying around a 35-year-old umbilical cord!
Archer: See?! All you talk about is baby shit! Because you're baby crazy!
Lana: You want to see crazy?!
Archer: No! I've seen that movie and, spoiler alert, it ends with a closet full of my suits on fire!
Lana: I wish you'd been wearing one!
Archer: Who would want to wear an on-fire suit!
Lana: Cosplay enthusiasts!
Archer: What?
Lana: Wait! No! Shit!

[Krenshaw walks in on Archer breaking into the mainframe]
Archer: Hey! I was just talking about you, and about how this isn't what it looks like.
Krenshaw: Lot of that going around.
Archer: Yeah, it's an epidemic.
Krenshaw: For example, my real name is Kremenski.
Archer: Is that... sound... is that Jewish?
Krenshaw: It's Russian.
Archer: Um. [long pause] Russian Jewish?
Krenshaw: I'm the mole, idiot.
[Later]
Archer: Lana! Krenshaw's a mole! And his real name isn't Krenshaw, it's Kremenski. Definitely Russian! Possibly a Jew! Thoughts?

Kremensky: Picture her, dead in the gutter, and what your pathetic life would be like without old Mommy Dearest.
Lana: [Held at gunpoint by Archer] JESUS CHRIST! He's got an ERECTION!
Krenshaw: [holding Malory hostage, but suddenly pushes her away] What is wrong with you people!?
Archer: [shoots Krenshaw] Me? Nothing! You, on the other hand--
Mallory: [Hits Archer with her handbag] AN ERECTION?! The thought of me dying gives you an erection?!
Archer: Just half of one. The other half would have missed you. Oh wait...

Archer: Johnny Bench called.

Cyril: Yep, see here? Kremensky just stole 50,000 from Archer's acount. Must have been doing it all along.
Archer: Apology accepted. Ass douche.
Cyril: Hey!
Archer: What?
Lana: [Points a gun at Archer] Call him that again.
Archer: Make me!
Lana: What?
Archer: What? Mother, do you see this! This is a hostile work environment.

Malory: [noticing doughnuts scattered across the floor] Oh, for heaven's sake... do you want ants? Because that's how you get ants!