Toby: I was a telemarketer for about a week. I can't remember what we were selling, but you worked off a script. "Hi. Good evening. My name is..." And "Toby Ziegler" was okay for New York, but once I got into the other time zones, I needed a name. I wasn't gonna bother anybody.
Bartlet: Toby, if you have something to say, please say it.
Toby: Ritchie's good for all time zones.
Bartlet: My family signed the Declaration of Independence. You think I've got an ethnicity problem?
Toby: Well, the line isn't between light skin and dark skin.
Bartlet: Yeah?
Toby: It's between educated and masculine. Or Eastern academic elite and plain-spoken.
Bartlet: It's always been like that.

Toby: I was hoping we would be able to speak in private.
Bartlet: Your actions have pretty much made that impossible. I haven't had much time to absorb this news, so I'll apologize in advance if I express any half-formed thoughts.But the one thought that hits the hardest is that this was somehow inevitable; that you've always been heading for this sort of crash-and-burn. That self-righteous superiority; not that you were smarter than everyone; that you were purer, morally superior.
Toby: Due respect, sir, I don't think I'm morally superior to everyone.
Bartlet: No, just to me.

Toby: If we go two lines without using the phrase 'unimaginably large military arsenal' we're out of our minds.

Toby: If... If we were gonna try this. What would be the plan?
Josh: We give the President and Leo the name. We bring Christopher Mulready in. We bring Lang back in. Hopefully the two of them woo the pants off the President, and he agrees to the deal without noticing he's standing in the gaze of history, pantless.

Toby: In a triumph of the middling, a nod to mediocrity, and with gorge rising, it gives me great nausea to announce Robert Russell -- Bingo Bob, himself -- as your new Vice President.
Will: This lapdog of the mining interests is as dull as he is unremarkable...
Toby: ...as lackluster as he is soporific. This reversion to the mean...
Will: ...this rebuke to the exemplary...
Toby: ...gives hope to the millions unfavored by the exceptional...
Bob Russell: not the worst, not the best, just what we're stuck with.

Toby: It made the news out there?
Will: A Jewish guy won a bar fight. It's news everywhere.

Toby: It's a typical marriage, I've been there.
Charlie: Well, I haven't, but he's the President of the United States, so my guess is no, it's probably not a typical marriage.

Toby: It's not so much that you cheat sir, its how brazenly bad you are at it.
Bartlet: Give me an example.
Toby: In Florida, playing mixed doubles with me and C.J., you tried to tell us your partner worked at the American Consulate in Vienna.
Bartlet: She did.
Toby: It was Steffi Graf, sir!
Bartlet: I'll admit the woman bore a striking resemblance to her.
Toby: You crazy lunatic, you think I'm not going to recognize Steffi Graf when she's serving a tennis ball at me?

Toby: Listen to me. We've got all kinds of atmospheric cabin pressure up here. We're a little late, so the Colonel's put the hammer down in a 747. You've got wind shear, downdraft, massive turbulence, not to mention four giant engines burning jet fuel at galactic temperatures. We're standing in a flying death tube! [people look up] No, not the rest of y-y-you, it's just my family. It's fine. Look...
Andy: What do you want me to do, step off?
Toby: Also, you've got twins in there; you're basically a minivan. How are you fitting into a seat?
Andy: Uh-uh... I saw him first, girls.

Toby: Listen, we need to make a call on Camden Yards.
Josh: Huh?
Toby: It's Memorial Day. He's gonna toss out the first pitch at Camden Yards.
Josh: Cancel it. Eh, can't cancel it; sends the wrong message. Ask for a moment of silence. And Toby, he's gotta, you need to take him out with gloves and a ball.
Toby: It's a six foot toss from the stands. It's Little League.
Josh: FDR threw from the stands; beaned one of his photographers in '37, extended the Depression by four years.

Toby: More college kids think they'll see UFOs than Social Security checks.
Bartlet: But they don't tell you how many believe in UFOs; that's the number we ought to be worried about.

Toby: Mr. President.
Bartlet: We were almost done.
Toby: I... met with Congresswoman Wyatt today.
Bartlet: When you were married to her, did you call her Congresswoman Wyatt?
Toby: No, sir.
Bartlet: Sometimes I call my wife Dr. Bartlet.
Toby: I call her Andy or uh... Andrea.
Bartlet: Okay.
Toby: Mandatory Minimums.
Bartlet: You're whupped, my friend.
Toby: Sir.
Bartlet: No, she's been talking to you for a year about Mandatory Minimums. You've been saying no. Looks like we know who wears the pants in the Ziegler family.
Toby: You call your wife “Dr. Bartlet”?
Bartlet: Just for the turn-on.

Toby: Mrs. Landingham, does the President have free time this morning?
Mrs. Landingham: The President has nothing but free time, Toby. Right now he's in the residence eating Cheerios and enjoying Regis and Kathie Lee. Should I get him for you?
Toby: Sarcasm's a disturbing thing coming from a woman of your age, Mrs. Landingham.
Mrs. Landingham: What age would that be, Toby?
Toby: Late twenties?
Mrs. Landingham: Atta boy.
Toby: Can I have a cookie?
Mrs. Landingham: No.
[Sam walks in]
Mrs. Landingham: Good morning, Sam.
Sam: Good morning.
Mrs. Landingham: Have a cookie, Sam.

Toby: On a scale of 1 to 10 - 10 being CJ and 1 being a chimp throwing feces - where do I rank?

Toby: Promise me something.
CJ: What?
Toby: You'll never let them make a list of my screw-ups. They wouldn't have enough paper.