Doctor: So, that's the trap. Or the test or the final judgment, I don't know. But if I kill you, I kill her. Except that implies, in this big grand scheme of Gods and Devils, that she's just a victim. But I've seen a lot of this universe. I've seen fake gods and bad gods and demi-gods and would-be gods - out of all that - out of that whole pantheon - if I believe in one thing... Just one thing... I believe in her.
Fry/Bender: Pop a Poppler in your mouth, When you come to Fishy Joe's, What they're made of is a mystery, Where they come from, no one knows. You can pick 'em, you can lick 'em, You can chew 'em, you can stick 'em, And if you promise not to sue us, You can shove one up your nose.
Dick: Does anyone remember why we all decided to be white?
Harry: Oh, um, I went with white ‘cause I thought it'd be a little cooler in the summer.
Tommy: Well don't you remember, Dick? All the television signals that we picked up in outer space were filled with white people.
Sally: Oh, except for that, uh, that black nerd with the hiked-up pants and the oversized glasses. What was his name?
Tommy: Bryant Gumbel.
The Doctor: You can't rule the world in hiding. You've got to come out on the balcony sometimes and wave a tentacle or two.
Oro Dassyne: I wonder how many they'll send. We've got so much firepower in here, these walls are ray-shielded. They can't take this fort. It'll probably be, uh, fifty Jedi. They'll need at least that many. Huh, maybe a hundred Jedi! They'll never take this base with less. Ha, they'll need an army of Jedi!
Battle Droid: I have a visual.
Oro Dassyne: Jedi?
Battle Droid: I think so.
Oro Dassyne: How many? A thousand?
Battle Droid: No.
Oro Dassyne: Eighty?
Battle Droid: No, sir.
Oro Dassyne: What? Fifty?
Battle Droid: Less.
Oro Dassyne: Forty? Come on, how many?
Battle Droid: Two.
Oro Dassyne: What?! Give me those!