Gunn: I've spent most my time this past year in a turgent, supernatural soap opera.

Gunn: I'm a fighter... born and raised.

Lorne: Oh---fudge-ical

Angel: Try this one.
Wesley: Something about strangling poultry.

Gunn: Congratulations, you're gonna to have a grand-spawn.

Cordelia: Everything happens for a reason.

Lorne: A mystical pregnancy right under my nose and not even a tingle...huh.

Angel: Easybake? Pop? Whoosh? I don't sulk.

Lorne: Has Cordy been a bad, bad girl?
(rolling magic 8-ball)
Magic 8-Ball: Definately

Wesley: (reading) eats...I am not a bucket head... It's a tricky language.

Wesley: It's not always about holding hands.

Lorne: No worries dumplin'. Come morning, I'll be a lean, mean, belly readin' machine.

Gunn: Now you did it! I'm gonna have to get your lame-ass blood all over my sweet, new, suit.