First Random Guy: What's next?
Second Random Guy: (reading from a book) Make sure all troths are securely fastened and sacrifices tilted as shown in diagram F-12 to ensure full drainage into sacred offering bowl.
First Random Guy: Yes, yes, and?
Second Random Guy: Using a clean, diagonal motion slit throat of sacrifice with the pre-blessed ceremonial dagger provided. -- I didn't see that in the box.

Angel: You know...I've (laugh) well, I really couldn't help but notice the goats. -- Yeah -- a lot of goats. Goats -- many. Those are goats, guys!

Wesley: No, let her go. Clearly it's easier for the Sharps to cast us as con artists rather than to accept the grim reality that Skilosh spawn nearly hatched full grown out of their child's skull.

Lilah: Look at them. It's like they've had the fear of... well, 'god' would probably be the wrong word.

Lilah: I dug up everything I could find on the last seventy-five year review. It's all in there. Makes the Christmas purge of sixty-eight look like fun old times. Nearly half of mid-management was sacked. And Lindsey, they use actual sacks.

Lindsey: Look, either we pass the review, or we won't. You really think that a few last minute dark rites and rituals are gonna make a difference now?
Lilah: Everybody else seems to think so. I heard Henderson actually pulled her firstborn out of company daycare to offer it up to... Brown noser. My mother was right. I should have had children.

Kate: You remember Atkinson? The captain at the two-three? He's blaming me for granting access to some lunatic who broke into his office and beat the ever holy crap out of him. He's filed a formal complaint.
Angel: He was raising zombie cops and setting them loose on the streets.
Kate laughs: And I'm sure once I explain that to Internal Affairs this will all just go away. -- And they've just been *looking* for an excuse... And you know what they say about *me*. I am a cop. That is all I've ever... I can't take a suspension... I would just...

Host: Now, Angel-cakes, you wouldn't appreciate it if I were to blab your personal stuff to every Tom, Dick and vampire that walked in the door, would you?

Host: But I really can't divulge to you what I read in another being. -- But I can tell you what I overheard in the men's restroom. It's coming Friday. And it's got all their legal briefs in a twist about it.

Angel: Maybe you could just tell me in one word what it is.
Host: Not likely. But I *can* tell you in two. Senior -- Partner.

Host: Most anything that can manifest in order to move in this dimension can be killed. Kinda the down side of being here. That and the so-called 'musicals' of Andrew Lloyd Webber.

Wesley: Excuse me, that -- that area is for employees only!
Angel: Yeah. You took all the books.
Cordy: Yeah, well, you got the waffle iron.

Cordy: Hey! No! You can't take this, I-I-I'm in the middle of it. (Hands him a phonebook) Here, take this one.

Cordy: What a jerk.
Wesley: Cordelia...
Cordy: I mean if it was anybody else I would just say 'get laid already!'
Wesley: Cordelia...
Cordy: But -- no, not him. One decent boff and he switches to evil psycho vamp. Which, in a way, would be better for everyone. Better for him because he'd get some, and better for us because then we could stake him afterwards.
Wesley: Cordelia, ambulance?

Woman: We want you to know, we're not judging you.
Kate: No, you're only firing me.

Darla: That's right, Angelus, go towards the bleeding mortal, because that's smart.

Virginia: But you couldn't have done it metaphorically? You know, in with a stern word? You had to do it in the actual I'm-standing-up-now-and-popping-six-stitches way?

Virginia: I guess -- before all this happened I never really considered just how dangerous your work was.
Wesley: Well, of course what I do is dangerous. You forgetting how we met? You were strapped to a sacrificial altar while the goddess Yeska was called forth from the nether regions to consume you.
Virginia: But I grew up with all that sort of stuff. Creepy crawlies and scary monsters I can handle. -- But guns? Kind of makes it all a little too real, you know?
Wesley: The gun was fired by a zombie, if it makes you feel any better.
Virginia: You know, strangely, it doesn't.

Cordy: Good evening. Angphlel Investigations, we help the helpless, how can we help you?
Wesley on phone: What in god's name is Angphlel?
Cordy: Oh, there are just some names I'm not saying at the moment.

Angel: You're...
Holland: Holland Manners.
Angel: ...not alive.
Holland: Oh, no. I'm quite dead. Unfortunately my contract with Wolfram and Hart extends well beyond that.

Angel: You're not gonna win.
Holland: Well -- *no*. Of course we aren't. We have no intention of doing anything so prosaic as 'winning.'

Angel: Why fight?
Holland: That's really the question you should be asking yourself, isn't it? See, for us, there is no fight. Which is why winning doesn't enter into it. We -- go on -- no matter what. Our firm has always been here. In one form or another. The Inquisition. The Khmer Rouge. We were there when the very first cave man clubbed his neighbor. See, we're in the hearts and minds of every single living being. And *that* -- friend -- is what's making things so difficult for you. -- See, the world doesn't work in spite of evil, Angel. -- It works with us. -- It works because of us.

Kate: You did it, didn't you? You bastard... You made me trust you. -- You made me believe. -- No, it wasn't you. It was me, right? I couldn't take the heat... That's what they're gonna say. Then you're gonna feel all bad -- or you won't care. But then, then I won't care either. I won't feel a thing.

Darla: Don't play games with me.
Angel: I'm not playing. I just wanna feel something besides the cold.