Jenny: You kids really dig the library, don't you?
Buffy: We're literary.
Xander: To read makes our speaking English good.

Jonathan: This is actually a new category. First time ever. I guess there were a lot of write-in ballots, and, um, well, the prom committee asked me to read this... We're not good friends. Most of us never found the time to get to know you, but that doesn't mean we haven't noticed you. We don't talk about it much, but it's no secret that Sunnydale High isn't really like other high schools. A lot of weird stuff happens here.
Crowd outbursts: Zombies! . . . Hyena people! . . . Snyder! [laughter]
Jonathan: But whenever there was a problem or something creepy happened, you seemed to show up and stop it. Most of the people here have been saved by you, or helped by you at one time or another. We're proud to say that the Class of '99 has the lowest mortality rate of any graduating class in Sunnydale history... [applause from the crowd]... And we know at least part of that is because of you. So the senior class offers its thanks, and gives you, uh, this. [produces a glittering, miniature umbrella with a small plaque attached to the shaft] It's from all of us, and it has written here, "Buffy Summers, Class Protector."
[The crowd breaks into sustained applause and cheering.]

Jonathan: We're risking everything so that Charles Atlas can get a date? He's going to end up getting us thrown into jail. Or worse. Maybe you and I should think about--
Andrew: Warren's the boss. He's Picard, you're Deanna Troi. Get used to the feeling, Betazoid.
...
Warren: Don't worry babies, daddy gonna give you some too.
Xander: See, now I think it's the daddy thing that's throwing her, 'cause incest, not that sexy.

Jonathan: Wish I'd have stayed in Mexico.
Andrew: Ah, I didn't like it there. Everyone spoke Mexicoan.
Jonathan: You could've learned it. You learned the entire Klingon dictionary in two and a half weeks.
Andrew: That had much clearer transitive and intransitive rules, okay? Besides, I can't keep having those nightmares.
Jonathan: Me neither. Desde abajo te devora.
Andrew: "It eats you, starting with your bottom."
Jonathan: Gonna make it right.
Andrew: We're outlaws with hearts of gold.

Joyce: Dawn... she's not mine is she?
Buffy: No.
Joyce: She's... she does belong to us though.
Buffy: Yes she does,
Joyce: And she's important... to the world, precious. As precious as you are to me... Then we have to take care of her. Buffy, promise me, if anything happens, if I don't come through this-
Buffy: Mom-
Joyce: No, listen to me. No matter what she is, she still feels like my daughter. I have to know that you'll take care of her, that you'll keep her safe, that you'll love her like I love you.
Buffy: I promise.

Joyce: I think we're just about ready for pie.
Xander: And then I'll be pretty much ready for barf.
Buffy: Xander!
Dawn: Gross.
Xander: You know, barf from the eating. 'Cause all was good and too much goodness.
Joyce: I'm taking it as a compliment.
Giles: Yes, everything was delicious.
Anya: Yes. I'm going to barf, too.
Joyce: Everyone's so sweet.
Xander: How you doin' there, Will? Are you in the vomit club, too?
Willow: [groans] I had too much nog.
Tara: Oh, baby. Want me to rub your tummy? She likes it when I... uh, s-stop explaining things.
Dawn: My nog tastes funny. I think I got one with rum in it.
Willow: That's... bad.
Xander: Yeah! Now Santa's gonna pass you right by! Naughty boozehound.
Willow: Santa always passes me by. Something puts him off. Could be the big honkin' menorah.
...
Anya: I mean, it's a myth that it's a myth. There is a Santa Claus.
Xander: The advantage of having a thousand-year-old girlfriend. Inside scoop.
Tara: There's a Santa Claus?
Anya: Mm-hmm. Been around since, like, the 1500s. But he wasn't always called Santa. But with, you know, Christmas night, flying reindeer, coming down the chimney -- all true.
Dawn: All true?
Anya: Well, he doesn't traditionally bring presents so much as, you know, disembowel children. But otherwise...
Tara: The reindeer part was nice.

Joyce: It's an outfit. An outfit that you may never buy.
Buffy: But I looked good in it.
Joyce: You looked like a streetwalker.
Buffy: But a thin streetwalker. (pauses) That's probably not gonna be the winning argument, is it?
Joyce: You're just too young to wear that.
Buffy: Yeah, and I'm gonna be too young to wear it until I'm too old to wear it.
Joyce: That's the idea.

Joyce: Look what I found. It's my yearbook from junior year. [finds her picture] Oh, look! There I am.
Buffy: Mom, I've accepted that you've had sex. I am not ready to know that you had Farrah hair.
Joyce: This is Gidget hair. Don't they teach you anything in history?

Joyce: That's not it. It's just... You belong at-at a good old-fashioned college with keg parties and boys, not here with Hellmouths and vampires.
Buffy: Not really seeing the distinction.

Joyce: You don't know the first thing about Buffy. Or me.
Faith: Don't I? I know what it's like. You think you matter. You think you're a part of something and you get dumped. It's like the whole world is moving but you're stuck. Like those animals in the tar pits. It's like you just keep sinking a little deeper everyday and nobody even sees.
Joyce: [sounding bored] Were you planning to slit my throat anytime soon?
Faith: Don't tell me you don't see it, Joyce. You served your purpose. You squirted out the kid, raised her up, and now you might as well be dead! I mean, nobody cares! Nobody remembers! Especially not Buffy-fabulous-super-hero! Sooner or later you're gonna have to face it. She was over us a long time ago, Joyce. [voice rising to a shout] Too busy climbing onto her new boy toy to give a single thought to the people that matter! I mean, you're her mother and she just leaves you here to die!
Buffy: [Dives in through the window, punches Faith] Hi, Mom!
Joyce: Hi, honey.

Joyce: You want to go to school?
Buffy: Sure! Why not?
Joyce: Okay. Good day to buy that lottery ticket.

Kendra: And those two, they also know you are the Slayer?
Buffy: Yep.
Kendra: Did anyone explain to you what "secret identity" means?
Buffy: Nope. Must be in the handbook. Right after the chapter on personality removal.

Kennedy: All I'm saying is now that Buffy's not here, we finally have some say in how and when we lose our necks.
Robin: Maybe you don't have to be so blunt about the "losing of the necks" bit.
Anya: Let the girl speak the truth. We're all on death's door, repeatedly ringing the doorbell, like maniacal Girl Scouts trying to make quota.

Kennedy: Let's start with the easy stuff. How long have you known... that you were gay?
Willow: Wait. That's easy? And what, you just assume that I'm gay. I mean, presume much?
Kennedy: Okay, sorry. How long have you enjoyed having sex with women?
Willow: Hey! What, you think you have some sort of special lesbo-dar or something?
Kennedy: Okay, you know there's a better word for that, right?

Kennedy: So, Spike's trigger's been active this entire time?
Rona: How can Buffy take this for granted? I mean, he lives in our house, we train with him.
Anya: Don't waste your time down that road. Spike's got some sort of "Get Out of Jail Free" card that doesn't apply to the rest of us. I mean, he could slaughter a hundred frat boys, and... [everyone shoots a look at Anya] Forgiveness makes us human, blah-dee-blah-blah-blah.