Fred: Killing, maiming, torture… 
Lorne: Puppies nailed to walls— thank you, Cordelia, for that lovely image— 

Angelus: I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t remember the good times. Maybe he won’t let himself. So like him. Here’s one for you. What’s the deal with Angel and the Raiders of the Lost Ark? 
Wesley: The movie? 
Angelus: The perfect-day fantasy he came up with. Caves, booby traps… the requisite phallic sword. 

Angelus: Oh, god, yeah! Let’s talk about Cordy, shall we? Huh? Now there’s a rack to write home about. Too bad about the personality, though. Yap, yap, yap, yap. 

Angelus: “Oh, god… Angel. Oh, Angel… we can’t. I love you but you were so bad. You ate babies.” Chicks… 

Fred: Well, now that’s just ridiculous. Connor’s Angel’s son. It would be like sleeping with your own…Oh… 

Connor: Everyone’s afraid of you. 
Angelus: Is that my shirt? 

Connor: So did Cordy. 
Angelus: She looks good on everybody. 

Angelus: Kind of unnecessary, don’t you think? I mean, with your track record, I’ll be staking myself by the end of the day. 

Angelus: And now my boy’s in love… all hearts and flowers. But doesn’t it freak you out that she used to change your diapers? I mean, when you think about it, the first woman you boned is the closest thing you’ve ever had to a mother. Doing your mom and trying to kill your dad…hmm, there should be a play. 

Angelus: What’s a better ride than a Mustang? 
Cordelia: Me. 

Angelus: The more you piss me off, the longer I’ll keep you alive. Something tells me she’s a screamer.