Shirley: Mother Hen? I think we’re about the same age.
Britta: Sure, unless time is linear.
Shirley: I’ll make your ass linear.
Britta: That doesn’t make any sense.
Shirley: I’ll make your ass sense.
Shirley: Jeff, you don’t have a bag?
Jeff: I could never deprive the world of the portion of my chest the strap would cover.
Annie: Accidents don’t just happen over and over and over again, okay?. This isn’t budget daycare.
Troy: I want to see if those wiener dogs are born that way, or if they start off normal and then get wiener.
Abed: If I could just take a moment to share a few words of sarcasm with whoever it is that took this pen. I want to say thank you for doing this to me. For a while I thought I’d have to suffer through a puppy parade, but I much prefer being entombed alive in a mausoleum of feelings I can neither understand nor reciprocate. So whoever you are, can I get you anything? Ice cream? Best friend medal? Anything? Mm-mmm? Okay, sarcasm over.
Jeff: Annie, relax.
Britta: No you relax Jeff! Or are you afraid that if you do, my pen will fall out?!
Shirley: I’m simply a Christian woman that doesn’t open her bag.
Jeff: What did the Christian woman think would happen when we got to her bag?
Shirley: The Christian woman thought you’d find it on the Muslim.
Britta: I still thing that man is going to evolve into woman, not a dragon monster with three legs.
Pierce: Three legs?
Annie: Abed, did you pick up my pen? It’s a purple pen with a gel grip.
Abed: Nope, I’m strictly mechanical pencils these days.
Pierce: More relatable?
Britta: Hasta la later.
Britta: And before you can say “1984” the thought police are forcy-worcing you to bend and spread.
Jeff: Bend and spread? Are the thought police gonna make love to us?
Troy: Do they find thoughts in our butts? I knew I should have read that book.
Annie: Britta, stop using the constitution as a baby blanket. Last week, she invoked the Freedom of Information Act to request photocopies of my notes.
Jeff: That’s pretty good.
Britta: Well excuse me for living free.
Jeff: Well Annie, looks like you were wrong, Britta does come prepared for one thing. Or Six, big weekend?
Britta: Can’t complain.
Dean Pelton: Attention students, the puppy parade is starting on the quad. Better come quick, with each passing moment these puppies grow older and less deserving of my attention.
Pierce: “Side effects: Verbal dysphasia and octopus loss.” I don’t see anything on this squirrel about memory, Troy.
Jeff: Gwynnifer? Hi. Yeah, it’s me. I can’t make it, well tell your disappointment to suck it. I’m doing a bottle episode.
Annie: Well, well, well, Harvey Keitel.
Troy: Well, what do you know, Henry David Thoreau.
Britta: My oh my, Mike Ty…son.
Britta: This Gwynnifer must be real special, don’t you usually wear the stripey turquoise Beetlejuice numbers?
Abed: What does she mean “usually”?
Dean Pelton: What the hell did you people do in there?
Abed: Something you and your puppies could only dream of, you non-miraculous son of a bitch.
Dean Pelton: Non-miraculous? Wait! Abed!