Heather Chandler: Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Do I look like Mother Teresa?
Veronica Sawyer: She's my best friend. God, I hate her.
Heather Chandler: Transfer to Washington. Transfer to Jefferson. No one at Westerberg is going to let you play their reindeer games.
J.D.: I like it. It's got that what-a-cruel-world-let's-toss-ourselves-in-the-abyss type ambience.
J.D.: I'm a no-rust-build-up man, myself.
Heather Chandler: Corn Nuts.
Veronica Sawyer: Plain or BQ?
Heather Chandler: BQ.
J.D.: I knew that loose was too noose... uh... noose too loose.
J.D.: I can't believe you did it. I was teasing. I loved you. Course, I was coming up here to kill ya.
Veronica Sawyer: Great pate, mom, but I gotta motor if I wanna be ready for that party tonight.
Veronica Sawyer: Suicide gave Heather depth, Kurt a soul, and Ram a brain. I don't know what it's given me, but I have no control over myself when I'm with J.D. Are we going to prom or to hell?
Heather McNamara: God, they're not gonna expel him. They'll just suspend him for a week or something.
Heather Chandler: He used a real gun, they should throw his ass in jail.
Veronica Sawyer: He used blanks. All he did was ruin 2 pairs of pants, maybe not even that... can you bleach out urine stains?
Veronica Sawyer: It's one thing to want someone out of your life, but it's another thing to serve them a wake-up cup full of liquid drainer.
Heather Chandler: Grow up Heather, bulimia's so '87.
J.D.: The extreme always seems to make an impression.