Doyle: So that's it then? That's your exciting plan for this evening? A book?
Angel: I get enough excitement.
Doyle: Yeah, of the evil-fighting variety. How about a little off-duty fun?
Angel: Such as?

Cordy: While I steal into the night with my incredibly-more-wealthy-then-you prince? Makes your little life seem a tad drab, doesn't it?
Doyle: Yeah, just because he has money, doesn't mean that he can make you happy.
Cordelia: I'll have you know that Pierce has a lot more than money. He has a house in Montecito, he has a Mercedes CLK 320 and a place in the hills with a lap pool.
Doyle: Since you put it that way.

Doyle: Out to dinner?
Pierce: Le petit renard.
Doyle: Ah, right. Nice spot. Duck is dry.

Pierce: See you have to study weather trends in order to make a good play in the agricultural market. Once you do, you'll never look at soybeans the same way. God, listen to me! I'm not boring you, am I?
Cordy: I don't mind.
Pierce: Like today, there was some heavy trading lean hog options. The spread dropped about 1700 points. I mean in November they were trading at 6 cents. So, you know what I did? I sold at 6 and 1/8 of a cent! 6 and 1/8. Can you imagine anything more exciting then that?

Pierce: I'm sorry you're not feeling well. I was hoping we could make a night of it.
Cordy: Me, too. I really wanted to hear the end of the story about the pigs and beans.

Doyle: Are you okay?
Cordy: I'm fine. That was… You're so brave.
Doyle: You think you could say that again without so much shock in your voice? You're stepping on my moment of manliness here.
Cordy: I'm sorry. I'm just…
Doyle: Surprised?
Cordy: Grateful.

Cordy: So, here I am at Le Petite Renard with Mr. Armani, who could keep me in blue boxes for the rest of my life…
Angel: Blue boxes?
Cordy: Tiffany's! God! And the whole night I was bored silly. All I could think about was if this wimp ever saw a monster he'd probably throw a shoe at it and run like a weasel. A turn out the shoe part was giving him to much credit.

Cordy: And as if I wasn't confused enough, then Doyle comes along and rescues me like some badly dressed superhero.

Cordy: So, I've got to kill myself. I swore when I went that road with Xander Harris, I'd rather be dead then date a fixer-upper again.

Doyle: That wasn't…
Cordy: "An incredible spaz attack? Good.

Cordy: Maybe you don't actually have zero potential.
Doyle: Wow, Cordelia. Thanks.
Cordy: That's not…

Richard: (Il parle à Angel) I've heard so much about you. (À Harry) Say, you left out the part about him being such a handsome fellow.
Angel: I'm not…
Richard: Oh, no, you are! Really.
Angel: I'm not Doyle. He is.
Richard: Oh that’s more like it. (A Doyle) Not that you're not a very good-looking man.

Doyle: He's working a spell on her. She gonna sprout hubcaps from her head or something.

Aunt: Who's Doyle?
Cousin: Harry's first husband. Richard invited him.
Richard: "He's really very sweet. I think you're all going to enjoy him.  All right, fine, fine. Dancing girl. I submit. Now, where were we?
Dad: Ah, lets see… First we greet the man of the hour. Then we drink. We bring out the food. Then we drink. Then comes the Stripper. Darts, then we have the ritual eating of the first husbands’ brains, and then charades.
Brother: Wait! What was that? Charades?

Dad: This is a shrimp fork. He's going to eat the guy's brains with a shrimp fork?
Nick: Well pardon me if our ancient ancestors didn't leave behind any former-husband-brain-eating forks.

Richard: He's right. That was rude. I'd be honoured to eat your brains.

Harry: I'm only going to ask you this once, Richard, and I expect a straight answer: were you or were you not intending to eat my ex-husband's brains?
Richard: In a way.

Cordy: Hi, Doyle. Are you going to become loser-pining guy, like, full-time now? Because you know, we already have one of those around the office.
Angel: Hey!
Doyle: Hey!
Cordy: He can get away with it. He's tall and… and looks at the way clothes hang on him. But you…
Angel: Okay, I think you've cheered us up enough.