Lister: Computer Senility. It's such a weird condition.
Kryten: I know. I had a mechanoid friend once who suffered from the same affliction. His name was Gilbert, but he preferred it if people called him "Rameses Niblick the Third, Kerplunk Kerplunk, Whoops, Where's My Thribble?". A sad case.
Rimmer: Well, if you ask me the eskimos had the right idea. They kmew how to handle the elderly and the permanently baffled: middle of the night, they'd take the out into the blizzard, remove their pyjamas, and just leave them to it.
Kryten: That's how eskimos cared for their old people
Rimmer: Absolutely. That's why there's no eskimo word for 'Eastbourne'.

Holly: They're all dead. Everybody's dead, Dave.
Lister: Peterson isn't, is he?
Holly: Everybody's dead, Dave!
Lister: Not Chen!
Holly: Gordon Bennett! Yes, Chen. Everyone. Everybody's dead, Dave!
Lister: Rimmer?
Holly: He's dead, Dave. Everybody is dead. Everybody is dead, Dave.
Lister: Wait. Are you trying to tell me everybody's dead?
Holly: Should've never let him out in the first place....

Rimmer: [jogging] Morning, Lister! How's life in hippie heaven, you pregnant baboon-bellied space beatnik? What's the plan for the day, then? Slobbing in the morning, followed by slobbing in the afternoon, then a bit of a snooze before the main evening's slob? God, you're a disgrace to the species. [jogs away]
[Lister]: Good morning, Rimmer.

Lister: Why do women always leave me? Why do they dump me for men who wear turtle neck sweaters and smoke a pipe? I mean natural yoghurt eaters. "Reliable", "sensible", "dependable", and lots of others words that end in "-ible". They're obsessed with house prices and spends half his life at antique fairs looking for bargains and drinking wine. It's never beer is it, it's always wine. 'What do you want on your cornflakes darling', 'oh I'll 'ave some wine please'.

Holly: Look, I'm trying to navigate at faster than the speed of light, which means that before you see something, you've already passed through it. Even with an IQ of 6000, it's still brown-trousers time.

Holly: I was in love once. A Sinclair ZX81. People said, no, Holly, she's not for you. She's cheap, she's stupid and she wouldn't load, well, not for me anyway.
Lister: What are you trying to say, Hol?
Holly: What I'm saying, Dave is, it's better to have loved and lost than to listen to an album by Olivia Newton-John.
Cat: Why's that?
Holly: Anything's better than to listen to an album by Olivia Newton-John.

Holly: We're a bit short on a few supplies.
Lister: Like what?
Holly: Cow's milk. Ran out of that yonks ago. Fresh and dehydrated.
Lister: What kind of milk are we using now?
Holly: Emergency back-up supply. We're on the dog's milk.
Lister: Dog's milk?!
Holly: Nothing wrong with dog's milk. Full of goodness, full of vitamins, full of marrowbone jelly. Lasts longer than any other type of milk, dog's milk.
Lister: Why?
Holly: No bugger'll drink it. Plus, of course, the advantage of dog's milk is that when it goes off, it tastes exactly the same as when it's fresh.
Lister: Why didn't you tell me, Holly?
Holly: What, and spoil your tea?

Cat: Great(!) Where does this leave us?!
Kryten: It leaves us floating aimlessly in space with no navigation and a rapidly diminishing emergency power supply. It leaves us galloping up diarrhea drive without a saddle.

[Lister]: You said yourself. I can't stop it. Let's get this over with. [grabs a pipe]
[Rimmer]: Lister, what's that for?
[Lister]: I'm going out as I came in, screaming and kicking.
[Rimmer]: You can't just whack Death on the head!
[Lister]: If he comes near me, I'm gonna rip his nipples off!

[Cat and Lister are playing Scrabble.]
Cat: Hey hey hey, I've got you now, buddy! J, O, Z, X, Y, Q, K!
Lister: That's not a word.
Cat: It's a Cat word.
Lister: Jozxyqk?
Cat: That's not how you pronounce it!
Lister: What does it mean?
Cat: It's the sound you make when you get your sexual organs trapped in something.
Lister: Is it in the dictionary?
Cat: Well it could be, if you're reading in the nude and close the book too quick. Jozxyqk!!!

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!

Rimmer: [discussing his last exam] Lister, last time I only failed by the narrowest of narrow margins.
Lister: You what? You walked in there, wrote "I AM A FISH" four hundred times, did a funny little dance and fainted!
Rimmer: That's a total lie.
Lister: No, it's not. Peterson told me.
Rimmer: "No, it's not. Peterson told me." Lister, if you must know, I submitted a discourse on porous circuitry that was too... radical, too unconventional, too mould-breaking for the examiners to accept.
Lister: Yeah. You said you were a fish!

Lister: I mean, what kind of holy writ is this, Rimmer? 'It is a sin to be cool.'
Rimmer: LOOK, I'M SICK TO DEATH ABOUT HEARING ABOUT THESE STUPID CATS! MY CONCERNS ARE SLIGHTLY MORE IMPORTANT THAN WHAT KIND OF CARDBOARD HAT I'M WEARING! I'M TRYING TO DECIPHER THIS! THIS IS SCIENCE, LADDIE! You can smirk, Lister, but I believe the Quagaars!
Lister: 'Quagars?'
Rimmer: Quagaars, it's a name I made up! Double-A, actually! I believe the Quagaars'll have the technology to give me a new body!
Lister: Never mind this tot, where's the Cat?
Rimmer: Tot?
Lister: Tot.
Rimmer: Tot?!
Lister: Tot!
Rimmer: TOT?!
Lister: TOT!
Rimmer: TOT?! TOT?! WE'LL SEE HOW TOTTY THIS IS, LADDIE, THE QUARANTINE PERIOD'S NEARLY UP! ....BASTARD!

Polymorph (as Rimmer's Mum): The things this boy can do with alphabetti spaghetti....
Holly: Cool it, Arn...
Rimmer: ALPHABETTI SPAGHETTI?!

Holly: Arnold Rimmer, Technician, 2nd Class. Captain's remarks: "There's a saying amongst the officers: If a job's worth doing, it's worth doing well. If it's not worth doing, give it to Rimmer. He aches for responsibility, yet constantly fails the Astro-navigation exam. Astoundingly zealous, possibly mad; probably has more teeth than brain cells. Promotion prospects: comical."