Angelus: [about last night, when they had sex] What? I took off.
Buffy: But you didn't say anything. You just left.
Angelus: Yeah. Like I really wanted to stick around after that.
Buffy: What?
Angelus: You got a lot to learn about men, kiddo. Although I guess you proved that last night.
Buffy: What are you saying?
Angelus: Let's not make an issue out of it, okay? In fact, let's not talk about it at all. It happened.
Buffy: I, I don't understand. Was it m-me? Was I not good?
Angelus: You were great. Really. I thought you were a pro.

Angelus: Dear Buffy. I'm still trying to decide the best way to send my regards.
Spike: Why don't you rip her lungs out? It might make an impression.
Angelus: Lacks... poetry.
Spike: It doesn't have to. What rhymes with lungs?
Drusilla: Don't worry, Spike. Angel always knows...what speaks to a girl's heart.

Angelus: No weapons, no friends, no hope. Take all that away, and what's left?
Buffy: Me.
Season 3

Angelus: Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping...waiting...and though unwanted...unbidden...it will stir...open its jaws, and howl. It speaks to us...guides us. Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. the joy of love...the clarity of hatred...and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we'd truly be dead.

Anya: [practicing her wedding vows] I, Anya, promise to... love you, to cherish you, to honor you, but not to obey you, of course, because that's anachronistic and misogynistic and who do you think you are, like a sea captain or something?

Anya: [to a customer who just finished her purchase] Please go.
Xander: Anya, the Shopkeepers Union of America called. They wanted me to tell you that "Please go" just got replaced with "Have a nice day."
Anya: But I have their money. Who cares what kind of day they have?
Xander: No one. It's just a long cultural tradition of raging insincerity. Embrace it.

Anya: And I wasn't talking about your date anyway. I was talking about this sham date of Xander's. I think it's part of a plan to make me jealous.
Buffy: [shakes her head] Well, it's not working.
Anya: Are you nuts? Of course it's working. Observe my-my bitter ranting. Hear the shrill edge of hysteria in my voice.
Buffy: Um, I should really go find something else to wear. [walks out of the room]
Anya: Fine, go. Leave me here to stew in my impotent rage. [Buffy stops, turns to look at Anya] I'm also gonna pee, so you should probably go.

Anya: And it's automatically you. You really do think you're better than we are.
Buffy: No, I--
Anya: But we don't know. We don't know if you're actually better. I mean, you came into the world with certain advantages, sure. I mean, that's the legacy.
Buffy: I--
Anya: But you didn't earn it. You didn't work for it. You've never had anybody come up to you and say you deserve these things more than anyone else. They were just handed to you. So that doesn't make you better than us. It makes you luckier than us.

Anya: And they have no purpose that unites them, so they just drift around, blundering through life until they die, which they-they know is coming, yet every single one of them is surprised when it happens to them. They're incapable of thinking about what they want beyond the moment. They kill each other, which is clearly insane... and yet here's the thing. When it's something that really matters, they fight. I mean, they're lame morons for fighting, but they do! They never... they never quit. So I guess I'll keep fighting too.
Andrew: That was kind of beautiful. You, you love humans.
Anya: I do not.
Andrew: Yes you do. [singing] You love them.

Anya: Are they gonna cut the body open?
Willow: Oh my God! Would you just... s-stop talking? Just... shut your mouth! Please!
Anya: What am I doing?
Willow: How can you act like that?
Anya: Am I supposed to be changing my clothes a lot? I-is that the helpful thing to do?
Xander: Guys--
Willow: The way you behave--
Anya: Nobody will tell me.
Willow: Because it's not okay for you to be asking these things!
Anya: But I don't understand! I don't understand how this all happens. How we go through this. I knew her, and then she's-- there's just a body, and I don't understand why she just can't get back in it and not be dead... anymore! It's stupid! It's mortal and stupid! And... and Xander's crying and not talking, and... and I was having fruit punch, and I thought, well, Joyce will never have any more fruit punch, ever, and she'll never have eggs, or yawn, or brush her hair, not ever, and no one will explain to me why! [She begins to cry.]
Willow: [long pause] We don't know. How it works. Why.

Anya: Don't you like television? I thought all children despise effort and enjoy cartoons.

Anya: I can't stop thinking about you. Sometimes, in my dreams, you're all naked.
Xander: Really? You know, if I'm in the checkout lane at the Wal-Mart, I've had that same one.

Anya: I for one didn't want to start my day with a slaughter... Which really just goes to show how much I've grown!

Anya: I had a quota, the guy had it coming. What's the big?
Nancy: I think I'm gonna be sick.
Buffy: Anya, that thing you created burst through solid pavement and ate her dog.
Anya: [anguished] Oooh, puppy!
Xander: Wait -- that gets your sad noise? People's lives are in danger, and you give it up for the Yorkie?

Anya: I inflicted a lot of putrefying diseases on men when I was an avenging demon, you look like you're getting all of them.
Xander: Okay, I'll stay. But you should go, you could catch it.
Anya: We'll die together. It's romantic... Help me get your trousers off.
Xander: You're a strange girlfriend.
Anya: I'm a girlfriend?
Xander: Oh, there's a chance I'm delirious.
Anya: Ah, yes. Well, whatever it is that's making you sick, so far I like it.