Rafe: For a fossilized High Guard Officer, your Dylan Hunt is one devious human being.
Beka Valentine: I knew you'd like him.
Tyr Anasazi: Your willingness to defy the universal odds is a disease that apparently we have all contracted.
Tyr Anasazi: I would say "let God sort them out," but someone told me He was dead.
Trance Gemini: Y'know, since we've got a little bit of time here, we might as well find a good way to spend it. I know! I've got this really great game. It's called "Harper tells Trance everything, so she can save his miserable little life." Would you like to play?
Harper: I hate you.
Trance Gemini: You're just saying that.
Beka Valentine: Where did you get all the candles?
Tyr Anasazi: I rendered them from the fat of my enemies.
Trance Gemini: And they even have a guild devoted entirely to the art of abdomen dancing.
Dylan Hunt: Trance, that's Iridano sign language, and I think you just made a rather naughty suggestion to Harper.
Trance Gemini: Oh, well, fair is fair. Harper made a rather naughty suggestion to nearly half the women there at the reception. Without success, I might add.
Harper: I'm not deprived, I'm depraved.
Rommie: I just want a day where I can build missiles and tweak fire control in peace.
Beka Valentine: We need to find you a hobby.
Rommie: That is my hobby.
Harper: Let me guess, we're going to open up a can of cosmic whoop-ass.
Beka Valentine: Can I say it? Let's bring it.
Dylan Hunt: No, a little louder, more intense.
Beka Valentine: LET'S bring IT.
Beka Valentine: Tyr, ya don't have to come. I know how hard it is for you to beat that Nietzschean self-preservation gene.
Tyr Anasazi: You know, that " Nietzschean self-preservation gene," as you call it, can't be passed down unless a breeding partner makes herself available. Proving one's worth as a husband and father requires taking risks.
Beka Valentine: So all these dangerous, macho things you do - it's to impress the chicks?
