Randall: People who are always right make me sick.
Fidgit: That's why you get along with yourself so well.
Vincent: Pansy, look at me.
Pansy: Yes, Vincent.
Vincent: Do you... do you... love me?
Pansy: Of course I love you.
Vincent: You... you don't mind the thing... on my... on my nose.
Pansy: Oh you mean your.
Vincent: Yes, my.
Pansy: No, darling... of course I don't mind.
Vincent: You could get used to have a chap around the house with a... with a... with a damn thing on his nose.
Pansy: Of course, my love. Everyone has something odd about them. Why I've got an enormous.
Evil: God isn't interested in technology. He cares nothing for the microchip or the silicon revolution. Look how he spends his time, forty-three species of parrots! Nipples for men.
Evil: Slugs! he created slugs! They can't hear. They can't speak. They can't operate machinery. Are we not in the hands of a lunatic?
Randall: We made trees and shrubs. We helped make all this.
Kevin: Whew! That's not bad.
Randall: Yeah. But did we get a thimble full of credit for it? No! All we got was the sack. Just for creating the Pink Bunkadoo.
Kevin: Pink Bunkadoo?
Randall: Yeah. Beautiful trees that was. Og designed it. 600 feet high, bright red, and smelled terrible.