Emerson: Dreams are just your brain processing random rigmarole it couldn't find a place for: it don't mean nothin'. Except you feel guilty about kissing Olive when you want to be kissing some dead girl you can't.

Emerson: I love you, shovel.

Emerson: I'm not God, but if I was, I'd be an angry God.

Emerson: If I'd wanted to hang out with geeks in leotards, I would've stayed in art school.

Emerson: Lookit here... You need a ticket to ride this ride, and if your ticket gets punched then you gotta take somebody else's ticket.
Ned: Why are you still talking?!
Emerson: I'm ripping off the band-aid!
Ned: I'm not a ripper. I pull up a corner a little at a time and then I run it under warm water and I pull it a little bit more. It's a process!
Emerson: Let 'er rip.

Emerson: Oh look: a dumb idea just found a friend!

Emerson: Some women love like gangstas. They be like "Ooh baby, you bleedin'! How dat happen?" While dey hidin' the razor in their weave.

Emerson: That girl dropped a bomb in your subconcious with her saliva.

Emerson: The fact that he was a very, very bad man makes you feel better about what you did?
Ned: Yes. Immensely. I would have felt horrible if it was... you, for example.
Emerson: [smacks Ned on the head with rolled up newspaper.]
Ned: I'm not proud!
Emerson: You know, I'm glad you did it. Makes the worst thing I did seem insignificant.
Ned: Listen to you, all judgey-judge.

Emerson: The truth ain't like puppies, a bunch of them running around, you pick your favorite. One truth and it has come a knockin'.

Emerson: You know what? We all have childhood issues. Okay? Believe me. I got the full subscription, okay? Horror stories.
Ned: I kind of killed her dad when I was ten.
Emerson: Maybe not horror stories.
Ned: She doesn't know. But I wanted to make it better or different than what it was, because what it was was her dead and I didn't want that to be my fault too.
Emerson: Well, who died instead?
Ned: [shows Emerson an obituary for the funeral director] It's a random proximity thing.
Emerson: Bitch! I was in proximity.

Emerson: Your book was a bomb.
Napolean Le Nez: [Outraged] Who are you to criticise my life's work?!
Emerson: [Holds up evidence bag containing burnt shreds of book] Your book. Was a bomb? It exploded?

Maurice: Are you going to kick someone's ass, Frere Pie-maker?

Narrator: As Madeline McLean prepared to grant one last deadly desire, Bobo the bonobo monkey had a wish of its own, to play with the ball on a stick called the shifter. And so, its wish was granted... as was the wish of Madeline McLean, for though her sanity was torn asunder by a boy named Abner Newsome, and her body was torn apart by a bonobo named Bobo, her heart was still intact, which allowed her to grant one final wish, and that was for Abner Newsome to have a change of heart... Madeline McLean's heart.

Narrator: As Olive considered how much she loved Digby for paying attention to her when the pie-maker would not, Digby considered how much he loved salt.