Inquisitor Rimmer: Now then: justify yourself.
Rimmer: Well...first, I've -
Inquisitor Rimmer: Liar!

Katerina: Something is not right! It's saying we don't exist! How can this be possible? "Taking to nearest valid reality". Makes no sense at all.

Katerina: You think you outsmart me, yes? But you don't, I here. Cut a second hole.
Rimmer: Science officer, excellent. So pleased you've caught up with us.
Katerina: You gave me slip, I know. You not want to be erased. But you won't defeat me, I too smart.
Rimmer: Erase me? I thought it was murder to kill a hologram.
Katerina: No, hologram already dead. Morally, ethically, hologram killing fine!
Rimmer: Fair enough. [Rimmer suddenly pushes her into oncoming traffic, and her image shorts out] Come on, we haven't got all day.
Kryten: She didn't see that coming did she. I did.

Kochanski: (Disgusted by all the corpses on the Leviathan) I've never seen anything like this!
Lister: You weren't around for my last party, were ya?

Kochanski: Hi. I'm so sorry.
Lister: My left arm I said. Thats my right. What kind of Navigation Officer can't tell left from right?
Kryten and Cat enter

Kochanski: How did I end up like this, on a ship where the fourth most popular pastime is going down to the laundry room and watching my knickers spin dry?

Kochanski: Let's at least ask someone who's at least going to give us a slightly more intelligent opinion. Hello, wall! What do you think?

Kryten: "Pub." Ah, yes: a meeting place where people attempt to achieve advanced states of mental incompetence by the repeated consumption of fermented vegetable drinks.

Kryten: [reading Hitler's Diary] Things to do: Stop milk, pay papers, invade Czechoslovakia!

Kryten: [to Lister] It's an obscene phone call, sir. I think it's for you.

Kryten: [upon showing Lister a photo of his penis] Well?
Lister: Well what?
Kryten: Well, what do you think?
Lister: I'm not quite with you here, Kryten, what am I supposed to say?
Kryten: I want to know, is that normal?
Lister: What, taking photographs of it and showing it to your mates? No, it's not!
Kryten: Well, i-it's supposed to look like that?
Lister:....well yeah.
Kryten: But it's hideous! That's the best design they could come up with!? Are you seriously telling me there were choices and someone said "Ah. There. That's it. That's the shape we're looking for; the 'last-chicken-in-the-shop' look." Shakepseare had one. Einstein. Perry Como sang 'Memories Are Made of This' with one of those stashed in his slacks!?'
Lister: Well yeah.
Kryten: No wonder humans don't have a zoom mode!

Kryten: [watching Rimmer's old home movies] Who's that there? An old girlfriend, Mr Arnold, sir?
Rimmer: Hardly.
Kryten: No, not really your type, I suppose. Silly old trout like that.
Rimmer: She's my mother.
Kryten: Oh! Oh God- I am SO sorry, sir!
Rimmer: Just forget it.
Kryten: Oh, how can I forget it, sir?! I compared it to a foolish aged blubbery fish! I said she was a- A simple-minded, scaly old piscine! I intimated she was an ugly, lungless marine animal with galloping senility! A putrid, amphibious, gill-breather with- with- with less brains than a mollusc!
Rimmer: Forget it! Freeze. Ah, there she is. Magnificent woman. Very prim, very proper. Some thought austere. Some took her for cold, thought she was aloof. No, not a bit of it. She just despised idiots, no time for fools. Tragic really, otherwise we'd have got on famously.
Kryten: Well, if you'll excuse me sir, I'll go now. This is very clearly a private family moment. I've no fish to embarass you further, I'll let myself trout. [beat] OH SIR, I'M SO-
Rimmer: Just. Go.

Kryten: First, we sabotage the date.
Lister: What, "we"? You mean you're gonna help me?
Kryten: Step on board the "love express," sir! Now, we get to his quarters through the air vents; I've paid off the guards. Then you make him look like the nerdiest slob in the entire universe. This is what you leave in his quarters. A half-eaten onion sandwich. That's always a passion-killer.
Lister: Is it? I like those.
Kryten: Then there's this: "Morris Dancer Monthly." What a total dweebo nerdmeister he'll look with those!
Rimmer: They're mine!
Kryten: And then there's these: tragically unfashionable underpants.
Rimmer: [exasperated] They're mine!
Kryten: And finally: Christian rock music. It that doesn't scare her off, nothing will.
Rimmer: Have you been going through my things?

Kryten: Has anyone ever told you that the configuration and juxtaposition of your features is extraordinarily apposite?
Camille: Wow, you really know all the lines, don't you?

Kryten: He's an android. His brain couldn't handle the concept of there being no silicon heaven.
Lister: So how come yours can?
Kryten: Because I knew something he didn't.
Lister: What?
Kryten: I knew I was lying. No silicon heaven? Preposterous! Where would all the calculators go?
Series IV