Oz: Guys. Take a moment to deal with this. We survived.
Buffy: It was a hell of a battle.
Oz: Not the battle. High School.
Season 4

Oz: Hey, you got a table.
Willow: I had to kill a man.
Oz: Well it's a really good table.

Oz: I'm gonna ask you to go out with me tomorrow night. And I'm kinda nervous about it, actually. It's interesting.
Willow: Oh! Well, if it helps at all, I'm gonna say "yes."
Oz: Yeah, it helps. It ... it creates a comfort zone. ... Do you wanna go out with me tomorrow night?
Willow: [slaps forehead] Oh! I can't!
Oz: Well, see, I like that you're unpredictable.
Willow: Oh ... It's just, it's Buffy's birthday, and we're throwing her a surprise party.
Oz: It's okay.
Willow: But you could come! If you wanted.
Oz: Well, I don't want to crash.
Willow: No, it's fine! You could be my ... my date.
Oz: All right. I'm in. [nods farewell when she indicates she's ready to leave]
Willow: [walks off, delighted with the encounter] I said "date"!

Oz: Oh, hey, animal cracker?
Willow: No, thank you. How's your arm?
Oz: Suddenly painless.
Willow: You can still play guitar okay?
Oz: Not well, but not worse.
Willow: You know, I never really thanked you.
Oz: Please don't. I don't do thanks. I get all red and I have to bail. It's not pretty.
Willow: Well then forget-that thing. Especially the part where I kind of owe you my life.
[Oz pulls a cracker from the box, hoping to change the subject.]
Oz: Look. Monkey. And he has a little hat. And little pants.
Willow: Yeah. I see.
Oz: The monkey is the only cookie animal that gets to wear clothes, you know that... You have the sweetest smile I've ever seen... So I'm wondering, do the other cookie animals feel sort of ripped? Like, is the hippo going, "hey man, where are my pants? I have my hippo dignity." And you know the monkey's just, [in French accent] "I mock you with my monkey pants," then there's a big coup at the zoo...
Willow: The monkey's French?
Oz: All monkeys are French. You didn't know that?

Oz: We should figure out what kinda deal this is. I mean, is it a-a gathering, a shindig or a hootenanny?
Cordelia: What's the difference?
Oz: Well, a gathering is brie, mellow song stylings; shindig, dip, less mellow song stylings, perhaps a large amount of malt beverage; and hootenanny, well, it's chock full of hoot, just a little bit of nanny.
Xander: Well, I hate brie.
Cordelia: I know. It smells like Giles' cat.

Oz: You don't wanna find out what I am.
Veruca: You're an animal... Animals kill.
Oz: You're right. We kill.

Oz: You mean... you'd still...
Willow: Well, I like you. You're nice, and you're funny, and you don't smoke. Yeah, okay, werewolf, but that's not all the time. I mean, three days out of the month, I'm not much fun to be around either.
Oz: You are quite the human.
Willow: So I'd still, if you'd still.
Oz: I'd still. I'd very still!
Willow: Okay. No biting, though.
Oz: Agreed.
[Willow walks off, then runs back and gives Oz a quick but thorough kiss. She leaves again.]
Oz: Huh. A werewolf in love.

Principal Flutie: We all need help with our feelings. Otherwise we bottle them up, and before you know it, powerful laxatives are involved. I really believe if we all reach out to one another we can beat this thing. I'm always here if you need a hug, [jumps back] but not a real hug! Because there's no touching, this school is sensitive to wrong touching.

Principal Snyder: Are we having a chair shortage?
Willow: I didn't read anything about... oh, [slides off Oz's lap] I get it.
Principal Snyder: These public displays of affection are not acceptable in my school. This isn't an orgy, people. It's a classroom.
Buffy: Yeah, where they teach lunch.
Principal Snyder: Just give me a reason to kick you out, Summers. Just give me a reason. [walks away]
Cordelia: How about 'cause you're a tiny impotent Nazi with a bug up his butt the size of an emu?
Buffy: Sums it up.
Cordelia: Don't you think?

Principal Snyder: I have not only the right, but also a nearly physical sensation of pleasure at the thought of keeping her out of school. I'd describe myself as tingly.
Joyce: Buffy was cleared of all those charges.
Principal Snyder: Yes, and while she may live up to the not-a-murderer requirement for enrollment, she is a troublemaker, destructive to school property and the occasional student. And her grade point average is enough to... I'm sorry. Another tingle moment.

Principal Snyder: My predecessor, Mr. Flutie, may have gone in for all that touchy-feely relating nonsense, but he was eaten. You're in my world now. And Sunnydale has touched and felt for the last time.

Principal Snyder: The first day back. It always gets me.
Giles: Yes.
Principal Snyder: I mean, it's incredible. One day the campus is completely bare. Empty. The next, there are children everywhere. Like locusts. Crawling around, mindlessly bent on feeding and mating. Destroying everything in sight in their relentless, pointless desire to exist.
Giles: I do enjoy these pep talks. Have you ever considered, given your abhorrence of children, school principal was not, perhaps, your true vocation?
[Giles sees Jenny and starts talking to her ignoring Snyder]
Principal Snyder: Somebody's got to keep an eye on them. They're just a bunch of hormonal time bombs. You think they're thinking about learning? Every time a pretty girl walks by every boy turns into a bumbling idiot. I try to teach them the important things in life. Discipline. Respect. Punctuality. I might as well be talking to myself.
[Snyder doesn't notice that Giles has left]

Principal Snyder: There are no dead students here. This week.

Professor Walsh: It's only our methods that differ; we use the latest in scientific technology and state of the art weaponry and you, if I understand correctly, poke them with a sharp stick.
Buffy: Er, its more effective then it sounds-
Maggie Walsh: Oh, I'm - quite sure of that. As I'm just as sure that we can learn much from each other. I'm working on getting you clearance into the Initiative, I think you'll find the results of our operation most impressive. Agent Finn here alone has killed and captured... How many is it?
Riley: Seventeen : eleven vampires, six demons.
Buffy: Oh... wow. I mean, that's... seventeen.
Maggie Walsh: What about you?
Buffy: Me?
Maggie Walsh: How many Hostiles would you say you've slain?
Buffy: [uncomfortably searches for the right words]

Richard: Ah, you have some weird friends.
Xander: News from the file marked "Duh".